


Heart of Thunder

by ertrunkener_Wassergeist



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Proposal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cultural Differences, Fluff, Galahdian Culture (Final Fantasy XV), Galahdian Religion, Getting Together, M/M, Mystery & Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-01-29 14:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ertrunkener_Wassergeist/pseuds/ertrunkener_Wassergeist
Summary: Cor just thought he was doing the Galahdians - Ulric specifically - a favour. It was an attempt to bridge the ever growing gap between the Lucians and the Galahdians, and now he managed to get himself engaged.Cor doesn't mind as much as he thought he would.A story where Cor Leonis manages, completely by accident, to set things in motion that will change the carefully set up playing field.
Relationships: Cor Leonis & The Kingsglaive, Cor Leonis/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 758
Kudos: 710
Collections: The Lion's Roar





	1. Chapter 1

This was one of the few instances in his life where Cor had no idea what was going on. At all. If the situation had been any different, he would have either stared it down or used a sword to resolve it. He knew however, that in this instance neither approach would work. They would probably make this whole thing worse for all he knew.

In front of him stood Nyx Ulric. The man's eyes were blown wide open and his mouth was gaping like a fish's flailing on land. They stood in the training grounds of the Kingsglaive compound, surrounded by a throng of people that should have been training and were instead watching them in shocked silence. The whole situation might have been comical, if it weren't for the strained and charged atmosphere. It felt like they were waiting for the fuse of an explosive to burn down.

Ulric's mouth finally shut with an audible _click_. He visibly gathered himself, straightened, and looked Cor firmly into the eyes. Greyish blue seemed to glow like lightning.

“Say that again,” Ulric demanded, the tone of his voice strangely strangled and high pitched.

Cor resisted the urge to frown or sigh in confusion. The fingers of his free hand danced over the fur he was carrying. Ulric followed the gesture with a sharp gaze. It was a beautiful fur, an even slate grey with lighter spots that had a silvery sheen to them, and the upper part of the head was still attached. It had obviously been intended to use it as a rug. A rug.

A coeurl's fur as a rug.

Cor may know more than most people in Lucis about Galahdian culture, but it still wasn't much. Most of it had to do with family feuds, family colours and some swear words in their native language. Coeurls were sacred to them. And for some reason everything to do with coeurls had also to do with Ulrics.

“During my patrol I came across a group of people being attacked by the local wildlife. They turned out to be poachers trying to get to Lestallum to sell the furs and other parts of endangered and protected animals. They were taken into custody and while going over the contents five hides belonging to coeurls have been found. Two adults and three kits. For now this is the only one I could take.”

He had no idea why he said that last sentence like he was apologizing about something. Somewhere in the growing crowd somebody made a sound like a dying animal. It cut off abruptly.

Slowly, steadily, Ulric stepped towards him, his eyes raking over his form, the hide in his arms, before boring into Cor's own as if he was searching for something. The crowd grew even quieter, seeming to hold its collective breath.

Something was going on. Something very important. The weight of it settled around him like a smothering blanket. Cor had known _something_ was going on since he stepped into the training ground and asked to talk to Ulric, to give him the hide he was carrying. He had thought it a gesture of... something. Why he had thought this was a good idea, he didn't know anymore.

Quite clearly he had set something off. Something very important and significant and _he didn't know what he was doing_. It bothered him, turned his stomach into a hard knot. But he had been in too many fights and political disputes to let any of his inner turmoil show. Even if this one didn't quite fit – at all – within his previous experiences, he still held out the beautiful and soft fur with all the ceremony he was able once Ulric was close enough to take it.

The Glaive's burning gaze flickered from Cor's face to the fur, and his hands curled into fists, clenching and unclenching, as if he didn't know if he should take it.

“Why?”

The question was barely more than a soft whisper. Ulrics face was a mask of uncertainty and indecision. It was atypical, so unlike the reckless man Cor had come to know on and – on rare occasions - off the battlefield, and he didn't like it.

So he gave the first answer that came to mind: “Because it seems to fit.”

Coeurls and Ulrics belonged together. According to what he knew about their culture.

A strange look crossed Ulric's face as he stared at him again. The crowd around them whispered in disbelief. From over Ulric's shoulder he could see astonished faces. Ostium was there, front and centre, with shaking shoulders, lips pressed into a thin line and face covered in red splotches as he tried to keep from laughing. He was Ulric's best friend, if he remembered right.

Cor focused on Ulric again, who finally seemed to have come to a decision. With a determined set to his jaw and shoulders, as if to dare him to take back his offering, he slowly reached out and took it. Gasps sounded in the crowd, some exited, some disapproving and most of them disbelieving. Cor didn't care.

His focus was solely on the oddly soft smile tugging at Ulric's lips. It was a tiny, hesitant thing, but Cor couldn't look away. He should step back. Now that his self-imposed task had been completed, he should take a step back, turn around and continue on with his day as if this whole ordeal had never happened. Something rooted him in place, made him stay where he was as Ulric stepped closer, still, right into his personal space.

He hated it when people did that. But now he stood unmoving as he could. Perhaps this was part of some Galahdian ritual he had no idea about. A show of thanks maybe? Cor had no intention of accidentally insulting Ulric or any of the other onlookers.

He kept his eyes on the man, searching for a clue on what was going on and what he should do. None was forthcoming. The Glaive still wore that odd smile that made his eyes spark, their gaze no longer sharp but considering and... appreciative perhaps?

With slightly trembling hands he unfurled the beautiful fur – the colouring of it was quite unusual. Normally the spots of a coeurl were darker colouring than the base; here it was the opposite. Ulric examined it for a few moments before he carefully slung it around his shoulders like a stole, the head resting in the crook of his elbow and the long whiskers winding around his arm.

Looking at Ulric like that, Cor could nearly understand why his family – or was it clan? - was thought of as having a connection to the large cats. Ulric looked utterly at home with the fur slung around him. He seemed to be taller, more confident. New waves of quiet mutterings moved within the crowd. The language of which Cor couldn't understand.

Ulric stepped even closer and instinctively Cor wanted to lean away but before he could even begin to move the other man filled his whole field of vision. Their foreheads and noses were touching and Ulric's eyes slid shut as shuddering breaths caressed the Marshall's cheeks. Cor felt himself freeze, his muscles wound tight as his flight or fight response rose close to the surface.

“I accept,” Ulric said loud and clear.

The words rang in Cor's ears like bells. Then, suddenly, as if a dam had broken, people were talking, yelling, probably gesticulating, but all Cor could see was Nyx Ulric's face. Their gazes met, the corners of Ulric's eyes crinkling in an amused smile and foreheads still touching.

“You have no idea what you just did, do you?”

The words were barely heard over the noise people were making.

“No, I don't.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx and Cor talk about what happened like the responsible grown-ups they are. Nyx flails and Cor is way too stubborn for his own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
So for people who don't read the other stuff I write:  
I have a whole notebook full of meta and headcanons concerning Galahdian culture and it will aslo feature in this fic quite heavily. The most important thing to know is that Galahdians have a different religion than the rest of Eos. They don't worship the Astrals, but instead their ancestors and nature spirits. It's the biggest reason why Lucians don't like Galahdians.   
There's also a language involved in this. I'm constructing it myself and will try to use it as sparingly as possible to avoid confusion. But translations for words and phrases will be provided at the beginning of each chapter.  
Have fun reading!
> 
> List of words:  
Galahkari = people of Galahd  
ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit

Nyx threw back his head and laughed. He laughed and laughed until he cried and the muscles in his stomach started to protest. Some of the onlookers still mingling around the General – Leonis – Cor – and him stopped and stared, but didn't dare to come any closer. Right the opposite. They seemed to be happy to stay where they were and loudly, with quite a few exaggerated movements, discuss what they had just witnessed.

Cor – and he really was Cor now was he? Not General, not Ser. But Cor. Nyx squashed the voice in his head whispering about how this could go south so damned fast it wasn't even funny. His fiancée – oh ahtrii, he had a _fiancée_ now! - still hadn't moved since Nyx had touched their foreheads in a Galahdian greeting between close family members. That must have been a bit much.

He... probably shouldn't have done that.

Kohna.

They had been engaged for less than 15 minutes and already he had messed up.

Nyx barked another laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the situation and grinned at Cor, wide and free and possibly a touch hysteric.

He could practically hear the Elders complain about this already.

For but a moment he looked from Cor to his best friend. Libertus stood there, grinning from one ear to the other, and gave him a thumbs up when their eyes met. Nyx would have liked nothing more at this exact moment but to painfully murder him. Crowe stood half a step behind Libertus and flashed Nyx a smile that made him want to hide in a hole. Then she proceeded to size Cor up like he was a piece of meat. It was better not to think too hard about this, for the sake of his own sanity.

The warm hand coming to rest on his free forearm nearly startled him bad enough to hiss. It was Cor. His stormy eyes blazed with something Nyx could not name and made his stomach flutter. The older man leaned in the tiniest bit and just kept looking at him with a slight frown on his face. In a sudden bout of nervousness Nyx licked his lips and jerked his head towards the nearest door leading into the barracks.

Cor nodded, his frown getting a bit less intense, and let him go.

They walked in silence. It wasn't tense exactly, but charged with something Nyx really didn't want to think about right now. Thankfully the crowd let them through without incident. It made him so happy that his people weren't prone to sticking their noses in other peoples businesses, unlike most Lucians.

Their gossip rags were a thing of his nightmares. Not that he would ever admit that to anybody. Nyx opened the door towards a small break room he knew to be empty at this time of the day. There wasn't much in it. A small table with four chairs grouped around it and a tiny kitchenette with barely enough space for an electric kettle, an assortment of teas and a few cups.

He could really use a tea right about now. With practised motions he set about preparing two cups of bamohn root tea after getting a silent nod out of Cor. Nyx suppressed a sigh. This was going to be so difficult.

They waited another few minutes in utter silence until the tea was finished. It didn't help Nyx' nerves at all. Barely there tremors shook his hands as he waited for the tea to be ready. In an attempt to calm himself the fuck down – he was the man who could kill a behemoth in one hit; he shouldn't need to calm down when he was about to have a talk with somebody, damn it – he stroked the soft fur of the coeurl's skin he still wore wrapped around him.

It was utterly beautiful. Judging from the form and width of the two long conducting whiskers this one had been a fully grown male that had probably lived somewhere near the Taelpar Crag. There and around the meteor plants and animals tended to grow... strangely or not at all. This coeurl had been nearly as big as his Galahdian cousins, but still lacked their horns.

Cor was watching him, lounging in his metal chair like a confident predator waiting for his prey.

Both of them stared at each other over their steaming cups, the smell bringing a certain comfort and a stab of painful longing to Nyx. It reminded him of a home that was long gone. He sighed.

“It just had to be a coeurl's skin,” Nyx started, more to himself, with a weak smile that was gone as fast as it had appeared.

“Coeurls and Ulrics belong together. That much I learned over the years. What I don't know is what it means,” said Cor, his hands wrapped around the garishly yellow chocobo cup in front of him.

Nyx tried to keep the pleasant surprise off his face, but he knew he had failed at that endeavour with the way the other man looked at him.

“I have worked with you – you call yourselves Galahkari, right? I have worked with the Galahkari for over a decade now; since before Galahd proper fell. During that time I was able to pick up a few things.”

“What kind of things?” Nyx couldn't help but ask. This... actually bode pretty well.

For them.

Potentially.

Better not get ahead of himself there.

“I know the colours of every clan within the Kingsglaive as well as any potential feud between them. My apologies for not always managing to keep them separated. What I managed to pick of your language is mostly limited to curse words. Other than that your people are hard to pin down. I do not give much stock in the things 'most people know'. To me, they have been mostly proven false.”

“That's... quite a lot.” _For a Lucian_, he didn't say, but by the way the General tilted his head in an acknowledging nod, he had heard it anyway.

A short silence followed, in which Nyx busied himself with sipping at his tea. He tried his best at gathering his thoughts. No matter how he would explain this, it was bound to get messy. He swallowed his dread and looked the other man square in the eyes.

“What you did,” Nyx started and motioned with a hand in the free space between them, “is a commitment for life on both our parts. It's ancient and sacred; it has been done this way since the first of my ancestors settled on Galahd.” He stopped, not quite sure how to continue.

“And what did I commit us both to?” asked Cor, his face utterly serious.

Nyx' first instinct was to grin and say something along the lines of 'nothing too bad', but... well. So he took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“We're engaged.”

It took great effort not to wince.

“Engaged,” repeated Cor, his voice flat and without any inflexion whatsoever.

Nyx nodded. “Yes.”

“...How?”, asked Cor after a few heartbeats of tense silence.

With a mirthless grin Nyx stroked the silver and grey fur over his shoulders. Stormy eyes tracked every little movement his fingers made.

“It just had to be a coeurl's skin,” he repeated his earlier words. “Anything else – anything at all – and I could've declined without losing face or angering my ancestors and the spirits. But with this? Declining now means we're inviting a worse fate than death. It means curses, and those are not to be trifled with. You just hit all the right marks to make it _impossible_ to say no. A coeurl's fur given to me – an Ulric – in front of a full hunting party and those closest to me in the absence of clan members and blood family.”

He knew he was starting to ramble, but right now he didn't care. He just needed to make the other man understand that he hadn't had any other choice but to accept. That would just have invited tragedy. There were stories from the early days of his clan, where members had declined such an Offering of Intention, and none of them ended well.

“So you made this decision for both of us because you fear being cursed by ghosts,” stated Cor. Through the cracks of his iron composure Nyx could finally see the disbelieve and fury he had expected from the moment they had stepped into this room.

Nyx wanted to wince, stand up and go somewhere where he could throw himself off a cliff or something, but he didn't. Because that would be denying himself the chance to... he didn't know what, but he wouldn't let it slip his grasp. So instead, he bared his teeth in an aggressive snarl. How could he make this man _understand_?

For the first time the older man broke eye contact and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

“My apologies,” he murmured in a low voice that sent shivers down Nyx' spine, and inclined his head. “If somebody should know that spirits and ghosts are more powerful than most people think, it is me.”

Taking a deep breath, Nyx tugged at his clan-braid and tried to calm down. It was okay, they were not going to kill each other, everything was fine.

“It's alright,” he said. It wasn't Cor's fault that he was a straahnos – an unknowing outsider.

Nyx felt the other's gaze weight heavily upon him. It clearly communicated how convinced he was of that statement: that was to say, not at all. Okay, so maybe it wasn't alright, but Nyx was hardly going to admit that now. There were more important things to focus on right now than his religious believes, or why Cor Leonis of all people had insight into spirits and curses.

“Explain this to me. From the beginning.”

It sounded more like an order than a request, but sill, Nyx couldn't help but feel grateful about having a chance to explain all of this. Again he tugged at his braid. His mother and sister would have berated him for that habit. He started to talk before his thoughts could linger on them.

“You said you already know that coeurls and my clan are connected in some way. There are stories about how Ulrics are reincarnated coeurls, another says that in the early days we were blessed by the Queen of the Jungle and then there is one about a coeurl that took on a human form to marry a member of my clan.

In Galahkari culture, when we are interested in marrying someone, we present that person with a hunting trophy. It can be anything from any animal – bones, teeth, fur, feathers, even the meat or blood – as long as we hunted it ourselves and without help. The more difficult the better and the chances of the suit being accepted are also higher the closer the animal is tied to the clan in question.”

Nyx took a sip from his now lukewarm tea. His nervousness had largely left him. Cor sat in his chair across from him, straight backed and attentive, listening carefully to every word he said. That was... good.

“When you presented me with a coeurl's skin you acknowledged their ties to my clan, and that you didn't hunt it down but killed the poachers who did it, and did that alone, shows that you respect the sanctity coeurl's have among my people. You did everything _right_ without even knowing what you were doing! You even presented me with it in front of the all the right witnesses.”

Cor had no idea how ridiculous that was. It was almost as if... oh please no. No. If his ancestors truly had decided to meddle, he was getting Libertus to find the nearest snake so that he could have a _talk _with them. Meddlesome old coots, the whole lot of them.

“I _couldn't_ say no!”

He looked at the General with carefully guarded eyes. Maybe they could make this work. Nyx could only hope. And, oh, did he hope in the deepest parts of his very being. Greyish blue eyes bore into his own, their intensity nearly stealing his breath away. They sat there for a long time, both deep within their own thoughts, their gazes tangled into each other. Neither seemed able to look away.

“What does it entail?”

The sudden question startled Nyx into blinking and breaking eye contact. “What?”

“Being engaged,” said Cor with an unimpressed look.

Nyx did his best to fight down the heat threatening to rise in his cheeks out of embarrassment. “I will give you something in return as physical proof that I accept your proposal. Everything else is decided between the couple until the wedding. That's a whole other thing we'll have to talk about later.”

Cor frowned but didn't comment. Nyx really didn't want to talk marriage customs yet, or tell the other that he normally would have put a braid in his hair as an answering claim. Ahtrii, he needed a drink.

“I'm not a Galahdi- a Galahkari,” Cor said at last.

“Galahkar,” Nyx corrected absent-mindedly. “Galahkari is the plural. But it doesn't matter if you are or aren't. What matters, is that you observed traditions and proved yourself worthy that way.”

Cor nodded to show that he understood and cast him a look Nyx couldn't discern. “This will not go over well with the royal court. His Majesty will just be happy that I'm 'finally settling down' and Clarus will say his piece, but he won't do anything. Can I trust your people to not raise a stink about this, Ulric?”

“Call me Nyx. Everything else would be strange,” he muttered, utterly relieved that he wasn't making it harder for them than it already was. He wondered amusedly, if the King had tried to get himself involved in the other's love life before. It certainly sounded like it.

Cor nodded. “Nyx, then. Call me Cor.”

The younger man nodded, barely able to hide his relief. He would have called Cor by his first name anyway, but it was nice to have permission to do so.

“You saw how they reacted when you gave me the pelt. You took it from poachers and gave it to me. Not even the traditionalists will say anything against that.”

“I sense a story there.”

“There is,” nodded Nyx. “You'll most likely hear it very soon.”

Humming in acceptance, Co looked like he wanted to ask about that, but he didn't. Instead he raked his eyes over Nyx' form until they came to rest on the silver on grey fur. “I'll see that the other four pelts will also be brought to you,” he said.

Nyx really had to fight down a blush at that comment. That man had no idea what he was doing, but he was doing it right anyway. He had nearly forgotten about the other four pelts. Another adult and three kits. He wondered if it could be considered an omen and promptly wanted to bury his head in his hands. Hopefully he hadn't jinxed it. With his luck, he probably had.

“Thank you,” he murmured and had to force himself to keep looking at the other man.

Was that a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips? Inwardly, Nyx floundered at the sight. This was... nope, not going there now. Right now he was having a serious talk – with a man that was flirting with him like no tomorrow; four more pelts, _four_ – and needed to concentrate. He probably didn't even know he was doing it, Nyx admonished himself.

The sudden ringing of a phone made him twitch. Cor scowled and pulled a phone out of the inner pocket of his black jacket. His gaze grew even darker when he saw the ID.

“Leonis speaking,” he practically barked into the speaker, and just like that he transformed into the cold and stern General he had known for years now.

It was such a stark contrast to the man he had been talking to just a few seconds ago that it made Nyx realize just how open the General had been with him. And expressive, he thought as he looked at the now completely closed off face. The man kept listening for a few moments before he hung up with a terse “I'll be there.”

He looked back at Nyx and his expression cleared again. Nyx opened his mouth to say something before closing it again, and swallowed.

“I'm sorry to have this cut short, but I'm needed.”

Cor said the last part in a way that made Nyx really not want to know what was going on. He swallowed the questions burning on his tongue anyway, down and nodded.

“Of course,” he said and stood up along with Cor.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” the older man said, pleasantly surprising Nyx.

“Tomorrow?” he couldn't help but ask, just to make sure.

“As you said, we cannot get out of this, and I refuse to marry a man I barely know.”

Nyx barked a surprised laugh, he didn't manage to keep down behind his teeth. Then a thought occurred to him and he felt stupid for not having thought to ask before: “Are you okay with this? Marrying me, I mean.”

“If you're asking, if I prefer the company of men, then the answer is no, but I'm not averse to it either. And you're not exactly hard on the eyes.”

Beneath Cor's heated gaze Nyx couldn't help the wide smile growing on his lips. “You're not bad looking, either,” he said and made an aborted move forward.

When he had done this earlier, the older man had clearly been overwhelmed with no idea what to do, so Nyx held himself back. However, Cor cast him a look that settled somewhere between curious and expectant as he stood by the door, one hand on the handle, but not leaving quite yet.

With silent steps Nyx drew near until they stood right in front of each other again. He saw understanding flash in Cor's stormy eyes as he leaned in, careful to telegraph his movements this time. They met in the middle, foreheads gently touching for maybe two seconds, before they drew back again. All the while they never lost eye contact.

“It's something that's only done between close family members,” said Nyx in way of an explanation at the other's questioning look.

Cor nodded and then he was out of the door without another word. When Nyx was sure that he was gone, he slumped back down into his chair and laid his head into his arms. The day was barely halfway over and he was already tired enough he could sleep for the rest of the day. His stomach fluttered pleasantly as he thought of tomorrow.

That was how Libertus found him not much later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done!  
If anyone is interested in my headcanons for Galahdian culture (it's what I'm focussing the most on rn) you're more than welcome to hit me up on tumblr under ertrunkenerwassergeist.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor scares the shit out of a bunch of nobles.

Cor felt strangely adrift as the door closed behind him with a silent _click_ that echoed in his head like a drum beat. He walked through the barracks, his long legs eating the distance with the grace of a stalking carnivore. He had not come far when he heard passionate voices locked in a lively discussion. On silent feet he doubled back down the way he came from, not certain he could stomach more strange cultural practices at the moment, and made a beeline for the exit.

The air outside was dry and warm, if slightly cool with the first hint of autumn. Shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight, Cor put a tight lid on the tiny voice screaming in his mind in panic and continued on his way towards the private meeting rooms situated on the lower levels of the citadel.

People kept well out of his way when they saw the dark frown clouding his face. One poor secretary even flattened herself against the wall, clutching the folder within her hands like a lifeline. Normally Cor tried to keep such reactions down to a minimum, but today he just couldn't bring himself to care.

The doors of the lift opened with barely the whisper of a sound and let Cor step out into the corridor. A thick, black carpet lay in the middle of the dark stone floor, dampening is steps. Tasteful flower arrangements in delicate vases situated upon gilded tables barely big enough to hold them, were the only splashes of colour to be seen. His destination wasn't far now. A dark wooden door like every other one in the vicinity. He stepped inside without knocking, surprising the occupants into silence.

There were Lord Sagitta, Minister of Outside Affairs – which he took to mean outside Insomnia and not outside Lucis – and Lords Caulis and Hypocris, Minister of Energy and Environment and President of the Hunters and Wildlife Protection Association, respectively. He could guess what this 'important meeting' was about.

“My Lords,” he said in way of a greeting, accompanied with a shallow bow, and closed the door behind him.

“Marshall Leonis, greetings,” said Lord Sagitta, his watery eyes blinking nervously. “I have to apologize for the lack of refreshments. We didn't expect you quite this soon. Please, take a seat.”

The table dominating the room was indeed empty of the usual carafes of water and traditional watered down wine. None of the three Lords bothered to stand up as propriety would have demanded of them.

Cor may not be flaunting it like some idiots, but 'Marshall' wasn't the only official title he carried. His second one, Paladin of the Crystal, granted him the title of a minor Lord by default, and as such propriety had to be observed. The three Lords in front of him knew that and chose to ignore it. A power move that bounced off of him without effect.

“I prefer to stand, my Lords,” replied Cor in a flat voice and settled into parade rest at the end of the table.

The three Lords shared what they probably thought were inconspicuous glances beneath his flat stare as he waited for them to start this farce of a meeting. Regis probably didn't know about it, either.

“We know you are a busy man, Marshall, so we will try to make this quick,” said Lord Hypocris with a fake, placid smile.

The rake thin man was of lower rank than the other two, but quite clearly the one behind this meeting, if Cor was reading the atmosphere right. And he was seldom wrong on these things these days. With a slow and carefully calculated deliberateness the Lord leafed through a crisp stack of papers in front of him, the other two, sitting next to him, tried to look dignified and important. To Cor they all just looked like greedy toads, which was an insult to every toad in existence.

“Early this morning you returned from you patrol outside Insomnia with a group of poachers you apprehended and their... loot, shall we say. What can you tell us about them?”

Lord Hypocris looked at him with an expression so earnest and serious it couldn't be anything other than fake. Cor had known the noble for long enough to note that he tended to over-emote, when he either wanted something he thought valuable, or feared to lose a lot of money. Seeing who was in his company, it was probably a bit of both this time.

“A group of five, two female, three male; the youngest barely of legal age. I saved them from a pack of wild animals before I knew what they were. They were on their way to Lestallum to sell pelts and other parts of endangered animals. Four were injured during the attack, one life threatening, the other three only had a few scrapes and bruises. I screened their... wares and brought them back to Insomnia for medical attention and their punishment. If you read my preliminary report, you already know this.”

“Do I understand this correctly: You screened their stowage before you got the injured party medical attention?” asked Lord Hypocris, folding his thin fingers over the papers.

“Yes,” Cor answered plainly.

Lord Caulis wrinkled his nose in indignation. “We expected better, Marshall. How will this poor man be able to face his trail, if he is half dead?”

“As far as I'm aware, the poaching of animals is still fined with the loss of a hand, no exceptions.”

“That sentence hasn't been carried out in a century!” bristled Lord Sagitta. “We are no barbarians, like other elements within this city. And even then, this sentence only comes into effect when the animals in question are protected by the crown.”

“Ah, but three of the pelts were that of silver spotted coeurls,” Cor said and watched in satisfaction as all three Lords paled.

“That cannot be true,” stuttered Lord Hypocris.

His hands frantically leafed through his papers until he found a list. Brown eyes devoured it rapidly until they stilled. He grew, if possible, even paler and without a word slid the list over to his companions who were anxiously staring at him. Cor's lips twitched in satisfaction when he heard Lord Caulis' strangled gasp.

Clearly trying to gather his bearings, Lord Hypocris cleared his throat. “Then we need to decide what to do with the pelts.”

There was a greedy glint in all three men's eyes, Cor didn't like at all. A silent suspicion started to needle his mind, and it didn't paint a pretty picture.

“I have claimed all pelts and other parts belonging to coeurls as my battle-spoils. The paperwork for that has already been filed and approved of,” he said, silently daring them to object with his gaze.

The claiming of battle-spoils was an ancient practice that had survived until modern day, despite it now being highly regulated. It could only be done during active war, the claim must be uncontended by other participants of the battle and only members of nobility could claim battle-spoils in the first place. This was one of the very few times he was actually glad for the title Regis had practically shoved at him the moment her had been sitting on the throne. Not that he would ever tell him that.

Lord Sagitta's face grew a splotchy red in anger. He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly malapropos, but stopped himself at the warning glare of Lord Hypocris.

“If there is nothing else, my Lords, I need to return to my duties,” said Cor blandly.

“Of course, of course,” nodded Lord Caulis, obviously eager to see the Marshall gone. “Do not let us keep you. Thank you for answering our questions, Marshall.”

“I am always happy to do so,” Cor said as he bowed.

Everybody in the room knew that that was an obvious lie. No one said anything as the Marshall straightened again and left the room.

On the outside Cor was perfectly expressionless. On the inside however, he was seething. Who did those three bloated heads of impudence and self-importance think they were? He forced himself to take a calming breath and gritted his teeth as he entered the lift. He could think about the implications of those three being interested in exotic and rare furs later. Training was a very enticing thought right about now. The steady flow of the kata always helped him to clear his mind. And that was exactly what he needed.

His steps echoed in the mostly deserted hallways and he couldn't help the quiet sigh escaping him as the heavy door of the private training salle closed behind him. Right about now a red light would start glowing over the door to warn others away.

He moved through his warm ups diligently, but with purpose. Time. He needed time to process what had happened today.

A crystalline tinkle sounded as his blade appeared in his outstretched hands in a shower of blue sparks of magic. The action as comforting as it was helping him to ground himself in the moment. Cor took a centring breath and the next moment he was moving.

He had never intended to marry. Not necessarily because he had no desire to, but because he knew he was a difficult person to live with. No matter what Regis and Clarus said, he was self-aware enough to know that. But now...

Ulric's – Nyx' – gaze when he had taken the pelt, and later when they had talked, had stirred something in him. Something Cor couldn't name and didn't know what to do with. Infatuation perhaps? No that wasn't it.

His sword cut the air with the lethal whispers of a song as he performed a horizontal cut and transitioned seamlessly into a block.

Either way, no matter his feelings, he was engaged now to a man he could respect for his unquestioning loyalty and skill in a fight. He would pull the other man's files to learn more, but he knew that he had never left a comrade behind on the battlefield, alive or dead, if he could help it. An admirable trait, if foolish at times.

Cor had still no real idea what he had done to catch Nyx' eyes – it couldn't just be the pelt, right? A tiny part of himself couldn't help but be excited about it. For a long time he had tried to bridge the gap between the Galahdians – Galahkari, he needed to remember that – and the Lucians without much to show for it. But now he had an in to learn what they had been seemingly doing wrong for years on end. An anticipatory grin stretched over his face.

He would do this.

He would do this right and maybe get to hunt down some corrupt nobles in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... oh Cor.  
Pulling a file is not how you start a relationship.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Libertus teases Nyx, get's caught up in his shenanigans and Nyx maked a necklace.
> 
> Featuring:  
Tredd being an insufferable brat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreign words:
> 
> gekkan = bear like creature with antlers  
pildura = Galahdian dance similar to capoeira  
Do zestiahte rid rihumate = For hearth and home. (Old Galahdian battle cry.)  
Galahkar = person of Galahd  
kohna = swear word, similar to 'shit'

Libertus was all bright laughter and mischievously twinkling eyes, as he clapped Nyx on the back hard enough his whole upper body jerked forward. Nyx sent his best friend and hunting brother a flat stare, which was promptly ignored with another bout of laughter.

“I don’t think that was what your mahir had in mind, when she said she wished you would find someone with the same kind of hard-headedness you’ve got. At least he gives damn fine proposal presents. I’ve never seen a silver spotted coeurl before. Did you?”

Big and strong hands, Nyx had seen wrestle gekkanisu more than once, caressed the pelt he had carefully lain on the table.

“She didn’t say that,” Nyx muttered and stared at silvery tufts upon pointy ears.

“Don’t deny it, Nyx. Just because you were drunk out of your mind, trying – and failing, I might add – to flirt with my cousin until she kicked you in the nuts, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I still remember it. Selena laughed herself sick when she saw you rolling around the floor, flopping like a fish on land.”

“I thought we wouldn’t talk about this anymore”, he groaned.

Libertus gave a snort that clearly said _in your dreams_ and proceeded to hum in appreciation as he carded his hands through grey and silver fur again.

“It’s a shame he didn’t kill the poachers”, said Nyx, definitely not just to change the topic from one of the most embarrassing things he had ever done in his life.

“Well, it’s not like the General already declared his undying love for you”, snorted Libertus. “Don’t get greedy, Nyx. The two of you can always hunt some of those fuckers when you are far enough in your courting. It’s not like you both already skipped the getting-to-know-you phase.”

Nyx let out a bark of surprised laughter at the wording. It was true, however. Normally, before one gifted their intended a Gift of Declaration, there were things most couples did to announce their interest in each other. Most contained dancing pildura together and sharing meals at community fires over longer periods of time, to see if a pair wouldn't murder each other.

They had totally skipped that part.

Resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands, he wondered what he should do now. He needed to present the pelt to the Elders during the next community meeting, which wasn't for a few days, yet. And he also... Nyx bolted up from his chair so fast Libertus stumbled a step backwards.

“The beads”, he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth so fast they were nearly unintelligible. “I need to make his beads!”

With those words he gathered up the pelt with as great a care as he was able at the moment, grabbed his hunting brother by the arm and dragged him out of the room, not caring if anybody saw them.

“Damn it, Nyx! You don't need to drag me like a kid, I can walk by myself, you idiot. The beads don't need to be ready until you want them to.”

Instead of having the desired effect of slowing down the Ulric from his fast pace, it only made him speed up. Cor had given him the ultimate Gift of Declaration, people would tell stories about this for generations, he just knew. He _needed_ to make the perfect Answering Gift. Everything else was out of the question.

Beads weren't the typical gift at this stage, but they were the most meaningful. That and a braid. But since Cor's hair was too short to braid, he would need to string the beads up on a leather cord. He would need to decide which knots to use.

People out in the street were staring and whispering as they passed. Some of the Insomnians – mostly mothers herding their children – crossed the street when they saw them, disapproval clear on their faces. Two tall Galahdian men, one dragging the other. One carrying a large animal pelt, one half slung over his shoulder and the rest pooling in his arm, and the other cursing up a storm.

Nyx didn't really notice any of it, too deep in thought agonizing over which beads to use. They practically ran down the stairs and into the Galahdian market. Here, too, people were staring, but for a whole different reason than the Insomnians did. They knew what it meant when an Ulric ran around with a coeurl pelt outside of hunts and holidays.

Finally they came to a stop in front of a stall that sold a wide range of beads in all shapes and sizes, ranging from nondescript tiny stone beads to the large clan beads. Those were the one Nyx was looking at right now.

“Oh no, you don't. This is a bad idea, Nyx, even for you. The guy won't even know what this means”, groaned Libertus with an air of exasperation, making it clear that her knew he wouldn't be listened to, but needed to say it anyway. Just to potentially have the ability to say _I told you so_, later.

“He will once I tell him what it means”, mumbled Nyx and handed the spooked merchant three beads the size of his thumbnail.

This was going to cost him a pretty yen, a large chunk of his savings in fact, but he didn't care. The merchant's gaze flickered from the beautiful pelt towards the beads and paled. He stuttered out an offering to use his engraving tools as a free of charge service, which Nyx accepted with a gracious nod.

He sat down at the small workbench, the pelt carefully handed to Libertus who glowered at anybody who dared to stop and stare for too long, even the poor merchant who looked very faint by now.

Nyx set the beads down on the workbench and eyed them for a long moment. They were his clan beads. A mohave turquoise, fulgurite glass and an onyx. Now he needed to engrave them, the question was just: With what?

He should probably incorporate Cor's Lucian heritage as a symbol of respect and to show that he was willing to make compromises. Thoughtfully he picked up the fulgurite glass and turned it between his fingers. It was more a small tube than a bead, the uneven surface not ideal for engravings. For that the onyx was probably best.

Engraving the bladed wing that was the sigil of the Crownsguard, was dismissed immediately. It was too close to the symbolism representing Bahamut for comfort, and no matter how much he was willing to compromise, this was something he couldn't do. But maybe a feathered wing? It was after all the symbol of protection. Lucians still used it, right? Nyx wasn't really sure about that, but it was the best idea he had. So a wing it was, wrapping around the whole bead like a shield. It was a very time consuming and fiddly work, lasting even longer for his lack of experience. But he preserved, because this was _important_.

The mohave turquoise was a bit easier. _Do zestiahte rid rihumate_. For hearth and home. The oldest battle cry of Galahd, written in their old runic script.

He had no idea for how long he sat there, bent over the beads, working, but when he laid down the tiny brush he had used to paint the engravings silver and bronze respectively, his back and neck hurt and his eyes burned.

With a quiet groan he stood up, joints cracking, and put the beads in a small case the merchant held out to him with a nervous smile. The man had been behaving oddly since the start. Nyx looked at shoulder length blond hair, decorated with a piece of silver wire wrapped around a braid with a beautifully engraved bronze bead, and blinked. He must be a cousin of Luche's. Why was he so nervous, then?

Before he could ponder that mystery further, a pointedly cleared throat made him look up. Damn, those were many people. A right crowd had gathered around the stall, either looking at him or Libertus and talking animatedly. One of the older teenagers in the crowd looked like he was taking bets.

Libertus stood, drawn up to his full height, in front of Tredd Furia, who looked like he would love to hit his best friend in the face. Which was strange, since it was normally Tredd who loved to needle other people until they wanted to beat him into a pulp. Now, both of them looked ready to throw hands, and the only thing holding them back was the pelt in Libertus' arms. Nyx thanked the Lazarus merchant in a quiet voice and stepped next to his best friend.

“What's going on here?” he asked, voice low in warning.

“You tell me”, said Tredd with a shrug. “I was walking along the market, minding my own business, when I heard the most peculiar rumour: the last of Clan Ulric got gifted a coeurl's pelt, and a rare one at that. I must say, it's very pretty. Couldn't say no to that, could you? Say, who got you shackled to?”

“That's none of your fucking business”, growled Libertus, his face darker than the storm clouds over Galahd.

Nyx clamped a hand on his shoulder, to keep him from doing something he might definitely regret later.

“Calm down, big guy”, he said with a calm that surprised him. “To answer your question, Tredd: the man who gifted me this found it when he took down a group of poachers. He gave it to me observing all the right courtesies and keeping to the traditions. He won me over with the strength he shows on a hunt, and the loyalty he shows those he considers his. Nothing more, nothing less. I dare anyone who has anything against it to step forward and face me.”

His voice rumbled deep in his chest. No one moved for a long few seconds. Nyx eyed the crowd, most people showing a reluctant acceptance, and only very few looked like they wanted to protest, but wouldn't dare to go up against an Ulric. He knew how telling it was that he refused to give a name. It was a clear indicator that his new fiancée wasn't of the Galahdian community.

Very deliberately he turned his back towards the people watching, knowing Libertus would step in should anything happen and paid for the beads, internally wincing at the price. If they had been back in Galahd, he would have taken the beads out of the Clan treasury, but since he had had to leave with none but the beads in his hair that day, he had to buy them now.

He pocketed the case and took back the pelt, demonstratively wrapping it around him like a stole again, causing a new bout of whispers among the crowd.

“See you around, Tredd”, he said and walked off, followed by Libertus towards the tiny leather goods store at the next crossroads.

There he purchased three sturdy and good quality leather cords in the colours of white, light blue and green, much to the excitement of the clerk, since those three colours were the usual ones chosen for what he planned to do.

On the way to Nyx' apartment Libertus was a silent sentinel at his side, and he was glad for it. Eyes followed them, most shocked and curious, but thankfully the people kept to themselves. Galahkari knew how to value privacy.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Nyx, but you know there'll be consequences to this, right? And not only because I can't imagine those noble pricks to hold their useless mouths about this”, stated Libertus after the door to Nyx' apartment was securely closed behind them.

“Cor said something similar about the nobles”, answered Nyx as he spread the pelt over his bed. It covered nearly all of it without effort. It would certainly keep him warm during winter, if it came to it. “He said he would take care of them. I'll let him do it on his own for now, since it's more on his end of things, anyway.”

Libertus gave a quiet hum, not quite happy, but letting it drop for now. “Do you think you could be happy with him?” he asked, tone and face utterly serious now.

Nyx froze for a second in his preparation of some spiced tea. “He wants to make an honest effort, and I'm not averse to it at all”, he admitted softly, not able to keep the honest amazement out of his voice.

“Good”, stated Libertus, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Otherwise I would have fed his innards to the nearest murder of crows I could find.”

He would do that. And get Crowe and Pelna, and possibly even Luche, in on it, too. It was an old Galahdian belief. Corws gathered where there was powerful magic, and while most sensible people avoided those places just to be sure, feeding crows was equal with feeding the magic there. Not always the best of ideas, since no one ever knew how the magic would react to that, but Libertus and probably the others were clearly willing to risk it for him. Nyx couldn't help but feel touched.

“Thanks, big guy, but I don't think you need to do something quite so drastic. Just, you know, help him learn.”

The last part sounded more like a question than he had intended it to. He set two steaming cups down on his rickety table and they sat down. Nyx pulled out the case with the beads and the cords of leather, while Libertus watched him with a solemn face. This place lacked a proper hearth, so he had to make due, with his hunting brother as a stand-in witness since he lacked living clan members.

“There'll be Galahkari who won't agree with this”, warned Libertus, cradling the cup between his hands.

Nyx hummed in agreement and then proceeded to sing an old song under his breath. One about the courage and strength needed to make it through the winter and the knowledge that new life would come with the spring. His friend huffed in amusement.

For a while nothing was heard but Nyx' quiet singing as he twisted the leather cords into knots with nimble fingers, threading the beads as he went along. He kept it as simple as he dared, knowing that Cor didn't wear jewellery, but still hoping that he would wear this necklace with pride.

When it was finished, there were a series of knots and braided sections keeping the beads in place. All of them symbolized something he knew about Cor. His tenacity, his willingness to protect, his strength and cleverness. It was... terribly impersonal all things considered, but the best he could do. Libertus inspected the finished necklace without touching it and nodded after a tense minute. Nyx could feel the tension in his shoulders seep out of him like a dam had broken.

“Oh, thank ahtrii”, he mumbled as he leaned back.

He had no idea what he would have done, if his present had been judged insufficient. Not that he couldn't have gifted it anyway, but it would have made for a sour start of his engagement. Especially since the person he was engaged to was Cor freaking Leonis. The strange bubbly feeling in his stomach was back. It felt a bit like excitement, but underneath it was something else that slipped through his fingers the moment he tried to grasp it.

“How do you plan to give it to the General?” asked Libertus, and just like that the dread came rushing back.

“Kohna”, he cursed and scraped his hands over his face, the stubble on his chin pricking his palms.

His friend, ever the traitor, began to laugh. He shot him a murderous look that made Libertus laugh even harder. In the end Nyx couldn't help his own grin forming. He needed to present Cor with his Gift of Acceptance in front of his Clan and/or family. Anybody who had spent prolonged time in the Citadel, and had a pair of eyes and ears knew that the closes thing to both the General had, were the King and his Shield. Which meant that Nyx needed to get an audience by the end of next week, or get the three into the same room somehow. He should probably tell Cor about this so he would know what he was doing this time. And he could probably help getting the King and his Shield to attend, come to think of it.

“Hey, Libs.”

“...Yes?”

Nyx could practically feel the dread coming from his hunting-brother in waves now.

“You have some time between training and your guard shift, right?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Nyx, no. You won't drag me into that drama.” Libertus looked like he just got stabbed by a tonberry for the first time.

“Please?” asked Nyx, dragging out the word with a shit eating grin on his face.

If Libertus' glare had been able to make him catch fire, he would have combusted on the spot. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, until Libertus' form sagged near unnoticeable and Nyx gave a triumphant grin.

“Fine”, rumbled his best friend, utterly exasperated. “But we're taking Luche as the second witness. He, at least, knows how to behave himself.”

Nyx agreed easily, happy to have found his own witnesses for the presenting of his gift to Cor. Everything would be above board and no Galahkar would be able to complain. A win-win in his book.

“It'll be alright”, said Nyx, not only to calm down Libertus, but himself, too, he realized. “Just imagine what kind of face Lord Amicitia will make.”

Libertus snorted his tea out through his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
new stuff and even more headcanons! And Nyx is an unintentional drama queen. As in everybody notices, Libertus is Just Done and still willing to throw hands with everybody who dares to say anything.   
Yes, the whole getting engagemed stuff is a pretty public thing in Galahd. To make sure the two doing the courting can get along and won't murder each other (which has happened before, so it's perfectly acceptable to know every tine detail, you know?). People who aren't officially designated witnesses usually don't aproach the courting couple to comment about what they're doing. That doesn't stop them from talking to each other, though.^^  
First unsubtle hint on how Regis will learn about Cor's engagement ;)
> 
> Until next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are two awkward conversations.
> 
> Featuring:  
Cor catching the feels, Monica's exasperation, Regis being a good friend, Nyx being very nervous about all of this and the author's lack of restraint when it comes to worldbuilding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of words in Hadnissa:
> 
> Galahkari = people of Galahd  
kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit

Cor was tired. People wouldn't know by looking at him, he still wore the same serious frown he always did and there were no dark circles around his eyes to be seen. The only way people would know that Cor had spent the majority of the night either staring into the darkness of his bedroom or a cooling cup of tea was, if they knew him well enough to know his tells.

Those people would look at the way he had arrived at his office hours before he was supposed to, at the way he hoarded any cup of coffee he could get his hands on and how he would carefully refrain from snapping at the people around him. They would maybe offer him a fresh cup, shove packets of nuts and maybe a banana or two into his hands and then execute a strategic retreat.

Mostly he suffered sleepless nights due to nightmares, which Cor had plenty reasons to have. He had been dumb and reckless as a teenager and the trouble he had gotten himself into had often times been more than he had been able to swallow. Not that he had admitted that back then. Pitioss, he still had trouble today doing it with people he trusted explicitly.

Last night however, it hadn't been the nightmares keeping him up. It hadn't been the face of the first person he killed when he had been thirteen and Mors had found him, nor the countless dead he had been forced to assassinate for the dead king afterwards, or the absolute panic he had felt when he had first laid eyes on the hazy form of Gilgamesh. On the very bad days the hollow rasp of the ancient... _being's_ voice followed him into his waking moments even so many years after it had happened.

No, last night hadn't been that.

Instead, what had kept him up had been the thought of his new fiancée. And even after a sleepless night and his third cup of coffee, he still had no real idea what he was supposed to do now.

Cor leant back into his comfy leather chair and stared at the bag of sunflower seeds Monica had left with a small stack of files on his desk not too long ago. He needed to get back to work, he knew that. A war didn't fight itself and there was a whole lot more paperwork involved than he had expected, when he had first been named Marshal.

Now he sat there, his eyes shifting from the files towards his latest cup of coffee despite the urgency he felt to get the work done.

With a sigh he leaned forward and unlocked the most private drawer of his desk. Normally he stored some of the more sensitive files he was working on in there, which consisted mostly of mission reports and the most recent information his network had sent him. Right now Cor wasn't interested in any of those. It was still well before the regular workday was supposed to start, so he still had some time.

On top of the small pile lay the personal file of one Nyx Ulric.

He had gone to retrieve it so early this morning that the secretary hadn't been there yet, the night guard had gone to take a smoke break – he was going to have _words_ with the man – and he knew the access logs were rarely checked. Which was another worrying slip in security, but worked in his favour in this instance.

The filing room had been an organisational mess. Nothing had been misfiled exactly, but it had taken him longer to locate the file he wanted, than he was comfortable with. Back in his office he had put it in his most protected drawer and had tried to do some actual work.

Cor caught himself staring at it every few minutes.

With an exasperated sigh, and slightly irritated at himself, he put the folder on the desk in front of him. It sat there, innocently, its slightly yellow pages worn down further than he had expected. He scowled.

Cor knew this was probably not his best idea. In fact, a quiet voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Clarus, continuously warned him against doing this. But he needed to know more about the man he would bind himself to – had already bound himself to. So he ignored his inner Clarus and opened the file.

The first thing he noticed was the slightly younger Nyx staring back at him. There were shadows in his eyes that shone through the threadbare mask of professionalism and told him of an inner rage he hadn't seen in the older Nyx. Maybe he was just better at hiding it now. Cor had no illusion of all of that pent up anger being gone.

The younger Nyx' hair was bound into a tail, the sides not yet cut short, with his braids hanging free. Otherwise he looked much the same.

On the next page was information Cor was more interested in at the moment.

A knock on his door made him look up.

“Marshal,” sounded Monica's voice as the door opened, “these just came in from the Border Patrol.”

His Lieutenant stepped into his office, another folder in her hand. She strode up to his desk without further ceremony and stopped in astonishment as her gaze fell upon the untouched stack she had left there half an hour ago.

“Marshal?” she asked, worry shining in her eyes.

Cor shook his head as a signal for her to leave it be. And normally she would have, he knew, but then she saw the file that lay open before him. An eyebrow rose in disbelief.

“Why do you have the personal file of a Kingsglaive on your desk, Marshal?” Monica hesitated for a split second before her face set into that expression she made when she was about to hunt down some security leaks. “Is there something I need to know?”

For a split second Cor wished there was a convenient MT near so he could cut it down with all due prejudice. Nyx – his _fiancée_ – wasn't the leak they had tried to track for years now. The man was one of the most loyal soldiers he had ever met, and since he knew Clarus Amicitia that was saying something.

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “This isn't about the leak.”

“Then what? Marshal, unauthorized access to personal files of people not directly under your command can get even you in very deep trouble. Please tell me you didn't leave any evidence.”

Raising an eyebrow at his Lieutenant with a deadpan stare, he closed Nyx' file and watched as she sighed and sat down on the couch by the wall. Suddenly he got the feeling that this hadn't been a very good idea.

“Why did you pull the file?” asked Monica and managed to sound in equal parts exasperated and resigned.

Cor opened his mouth to answer and stopped. How was he supposed to tell her when he himself didn't really understand what had happened? He looked at her. She looked back. Monica Elshett was one of the few people he trusted absolutely.

“What do you know about Galahdian culture?” he asked at last.

Monica blinked, startled at the sudden question that seemed completely unrelated. She furrowed her brow as she started to seriously think about the question.

“Not very much, to be honest,” she admitted hesitantly. “It's all very basic knowledge. They have their own religion, as far as I can tell they don't deny the existence of the Six but refuse to acknowledge any authority they have. It's a magic flask waiting to blow, especially with the Bladed Temple. They organize in clans, have their own language and braids are important. But I cannot tell the significance or how it is decided who wears which braid. They are very insular and secretive over their culture in general.” She paused for a second. “What did you do?”

Cor didn't snort. No, he didn't. Why did everybody always think he did something?

“Do you remember the patrol I went on?”

“The poachers, yes,” she answered. “You claimed some of the skins as battle-spoils. Lords Hypocris, Caulis and Sagitta weren't happy about it.”

At the reminder of the three Lords he'd had to talk to yesterday, his mood soured. Cor knew there was something going on. He doubted it had anything to do with the leak in the military he had been tasked with hunting down, but corruption was corruption, and it happening so blatantly on his home turf was unacceptable. He made a mental note to look further into them over the coming days.

“Yes,” he hummed at last. “For the Galahkari – which is what Galahdians call themselves – coeurls are very close to holy animals, as far as I can tell. Last year there was a mission I was on with three of the Glaives, Bellum, Arra and Najad. There was a Niff patrol, bigger than had been anticipated, and we had two injured Crownsguard with us. They were gaining on us so we hunkered down in a forest to wait until they gave up the search. The patrol came upon a den that was home to a small pack of coeurls not far from us and the Glaive abandoned their cover to defend them. It was one of the stupidest things I have ever seen.”

Monica cast him a dry look at his last sentence, which Cor soundly ignored.

“Coeurls are important to their culture,” he continued. “So when I found coeurl skins among the poachers' prey, I thought it a good idea to lay claim on them and gift them to the Galahkari as a gesture of goodwill.”

“So that is why those three Lords wanted to speak to you. A single coeurl skin can be worth hundreds of thousands of Yen,” realized Monica.

“I selected the biggest and went to the Kingsglaive headquarters to give it to Nyx Ulric, explaining that the others would follow as soon as the investigation was closed.”

“Sir Ulric?” Monica asked surprised. “Why not Titus? He is their Captain and also half Galahdian himself. He knows the culture better than any of us.”

“True,” nodded Cor and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “But after the incident last year I heard Najad tell the Bellum and Arra that Sir Ulric would have any right to murder them, if they had let the coeurls die without trying to rescue them.”

What he didn't want to tell her was that he had wanted to give it to Titus at first, but he hadn't been able to find the man anywhere. Nor did he tell her that the pelt with its size and colouring was probably scratching the one million Yen mark when it came to worth. His Lieutenant made a disbelieving face but didn't say anything. Cor took a sip of his now cold coffee with a straight face.

“So you made Sir Ulric a ridiculously expensive gift in the hope to bridge some of the divide between the citizens and them. I'm assuming the file on your desk is his?”

The Marshal nodded.

Monica sighed. “This still doesn't explain why, Marshal.”

“We're engaged,” Cor not quite mumbled, but it was close. He wasn't embarrassed talking about this. He wasn't. But there was a strange pressure in his chest as he admitted his new status to his Lieutenant.

For a few long seconds everything was silent in the office as Monica stared at him with a blank expression.

“Marshal – Cor,” she started, each word carefully enunciated, as if she was afraid to have forgotten how to, “I must have misheard. Did I just hear you tell me you got engaged?”

He nodded.

“You weren't in a relationship yesterday.”

It was half a question and half a statement. He nodded again. Utterly exasperated his only close female friend pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“How?” she asked into her hand with a tone edging on desperation. Before Cor could answer she continued. “No, forget the how. Why did you think it was a good idea to get engaged to a man as controversial as Nyx Ulric? If the success rate of his missions wasn't as high as it is and his magic compatibility so far above average it's not even funny, he would have been dishonourably discharged more than once already. Some of the stunts he pulled border on insubordination.”

Cor bit back the first comment burning on his tongue. Of course he knew what people were saying about the man. It was mostly the nobility at court wagging their tongues, but sometimes the press got wind of it. Cor himself had seen some of the mission reports. What Nyx mostly got accused of was the refusal to obey orders. Most of those orders involved leaving people behind or something similar. If he were honest, he wouldn't have followed those orders either. They were absolutely dumb. He had to wonder however when the rumours had grown so out of hand that even Monica seemed to believe some of them.

“I gave Nyx the coeurl skin in front of people he considers his family and in Galahdian culture that's enough for it to be considered a proposal,” he explained.

“I don't understand. And Sir Ulric accepted? Does something like this even count when you didn't to it with the intention to propose?”

She was absolutely baffled. He couldn't blame her.

“As far as I understand it, he couldn't say no without there being serious cultural repercussions. We agreed to go through with it.”

“And that's why you pulled his file?”

He didn't answer, feeling oddly guilty about it all of the sudden.

Monica sighed again. “That's _not_ how you get to know your spouse, Marshal. That's what dates are for. Take Sir Ulric out to a nice restaurant, go see a play, Pitioss, take him out to kill some daemons for all I care, but by Bahamut's bladed wings, talk to him. This,” she gestured towards where the file laid on his desk, “is not how you built trust with the person you intend to marry.”

Cor listened seriously to every word she had to say, and nodded. What she said was logical. Getting to know his fiancée would take time, but it would be time well spent. Hmm, hunting daemons sounded like a very good idea, actually. There was a new nest in Leide that was encroaching on the bridge connecting Insomnia with the rest of Lucis.

When she saw him nod, Monica's shoulders sagged a bit in relief. He raised a brow as he watched her stand up from the couch and walk towards his desk in two long strides. She set the folder she still carried down on the stack she had brought earlier and plucked up Nyx' file with a determined face.

“Good. I'll put this back and make sure no one will ever find out about this. Please try to do some work done. Oh, and I better be invited to the wedding, Marshal.” With that she turned around and left his office muttering something under her breath he couldn't understand.

_Well_, he thought as he stared after her bemusedly, _that was that_.

* * *

The hours until his lunch break Cor spent reading file after file and signing more papers than he cared to count. Progress was slower than he might have liked, but he managed to go through with most of it and had decided it wouldn't hurt to get an hour or two of training in after lunch. He desperately needed to clear his head.

Maybe he could make a date out of an afternoon training with Nyx? After all, it was perfectly normal to do activities with your spouse you both were interested in, right? That's what dating was supposed to be about.

There was a knock on his door just as he set his signature beneath a form requesting the use of a Kingsglaive training ground. The word 'denied' was stamped in big, bold, red letters on top of the page. This wasn't the first time he had seen a request like this and it made no sense at all to him. The Crownsguard had enough space to train in. Most of those spaces were better equipped than the Glaives training grounds, too. Much to his ire.

“Come in,” he called and set the form aside.

The door opened and in stepped the person that had occupied the majority of his thoughts since they had went their separate ways yesterday, with a nervous grin on his face and still in his training uniform.

“Nyx,” said Cor in way of greeting.

“Hey,” greeted his fiancée and closed the door behind him.

Curiously he glanced around the office as he walked towards him. It was a larger room than Cor needed with enough space to fit at least two other large desks into it, but Regis had insisted. Something about status and publicity or some such rot. What had made him accept the office in the end had been his friend's pleading face when he had suggested it, after he had been promoted to Marshal.

Nyx was halfway around the desk when Cor remembered the Galahdian way to greet family and stood up. A bout of nervousness shot through his system. Their foreheads met gently and Nyx' nervous grin turned into a barely there blush and a pleased smile. Cor could feel the corner of his mouth tick up into a tiny smile of his own. His stomach lurched and a comfortable warmth spread in his chest. It was strange. He usually didn't like to be touched all that much. They took half a step back from each other a heartbeat later.

Cor cleared his throat to avoid the awkward silence looming above their heads. “Why did you come here?”

“Shouldn't I have?” asked the younger man, his head tilted towards the left like a curious cat and his tone abashed.

“No, no,” Cor hurried to say. “I have nothing against it. I just did not expect you to come.”

By Bahamut's scaly hide, this wasn't a great start at all. He wanted to kick himself. Why was it so damned hard to talk to this man? Nyx gave an awkward smile and tugged at one of his braids. It was a normally braided one with another strand of hair twisted around it. There were three beads in it in different colours and forms, all looked like precious or semi-precious stones. He wondered what significance there was to it.

“I came to ask something,” Nyx started and tugged at his braid again. It was clearly a nervous habit.

“Yes?” prompted Cor after a few seconds of silence.

“How fast can you get an audience with the King?” the Glaive rushed to ask.

Surprised, Cor raised an eyebrow. “At once, if it's an emergency. Did something happen?”

His fiancée shook his head, clearly searching for the right words and Cor was contend to let him. This was clearly important to him, so Cor had no desire to rush this.

“It's a culture thing, I think,” Nyx said at last. “I don't know how you Lucians do it but since you proposed to me in the tradition of my people I need to give you a, hmm, Gift of Acceptance – I guess would be the correct translation.”

Aha.

“What do you need the audience for, then?”

“That's the thing. When I give my gift to you, there need to be witnesses. It has to be family.”

“I don't have living family left,” Cor said with a frown and a smidge of worry.

Nyx blinked, clearly confused. “But you have family,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing.

Cor felt like he was missing something. “My parents have been dead for a very long time. I don't have siblings and neither had they.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Nyx. “No, family doesn't mean there has to be a blood relation. It's the people you are closest to.” He muttered something in the foreign language the Galahkari had, clearly searching for words. “Those you have hunted and fought besides. Those you have survived great odds with, that walked beside you and never abandoned you.”

At once he realized why Nyx had asked how fast he could get an audience. He felt kind of ridiculous that he hadn't realized himself what the other had been trying to say. It was so obvious in hindsight.

“You want to do it in front of Regis and Clarus,” he said and had to admire the other man's guts.

Nyx nodded. A determination shone in his blue eyes that set Cor's heart aflutter.

“When?”

“What?”

“When do you need the audience? And do I need to know something concerning this gift giving?” he added.

“Oh. Before the week is over would be best. Shortly after lunch break. I need to bring witnesses myself since your family isn't Galahdian and we need at last one other Galahkar to verify that you accepted the gift. It's more of a formality than anything else, but better safe than sorry. You don't need to do much, there aren't any traditional words or anything. Those fell out of practice ages ago. You just need to accept it and wear it,” Nyx explained.

“Wear it,” Cor asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah,” said Nyx and lifted his hand as if to touch him, but let it fall to his side again. “Normally I would braid your hair, but that isn't going to work.” No it really wasn't. “The alternative is a necklace. The Gift of Acceptance can honestly be anything, but after the Gift of Declaration you gave me that's really the only answer I can give.”

So there was something very significant about that necklace. Cor was nearly afraid to ask. “Is there something special about this necklace?”

Another tug at the braid. “It's... ah, kohna. It's the most significant way we have to declare something. Way back, before my people settled on Galahd, we used braids as a means of communication. We still do, but then it literally was vital to our survival. It's how the different wandering groups warned each other of danger and passed news along when they weren't able to talk due to the high scrutiny of the Lucians. With the necklace, that's simply a substitute to a braid, I'm basically declaring you one of us.”

Which must be a huge fucking deal considering how insular the Galahkari as a people were. He couldn't help the feeling of fascination bubbling within him. Nyx talked about an era the historians knew practically nothing about with an ease and so matter of fact it was astounding.

“I take it doesn't happen often,” he stated despite everything else he wanted to ask. One thing at a time. If he understood his fiancée correctly, he had enough time to ask after the history records later.

A snort was his answer. “Try maybe once or twice since Galahd was founded. It's rare for a Galahkar to show romantic interest in an outsider and it's even rarer for the outsider to reciprocate those feelings. We're nothing but a bunch of faithelss heathens, after all.”

There was something about the way he said it that made Cor's hair stand on end, that didn't sit right with him. He suppressed the urge to snarl and marched to the other side of the desk where his phone lay. Beneath Nyx' curious gaze he picked it up and hit the speed dial. It rang once, twice.

“Cor? Is everything alright?” sounded Regis' voice over the speaker.

“Regis, I need a favour,” he said and watched as his fiancée's eyes grew impossibly wide.

“Of course. What do you need?” the King agreed easily.

“Can you and Clarus spare some time later today? There is something I have to do that requires your attendance.”

“My next meeting is in an hour. Cor, what do you need to do that requires both me and Clarus there?” Regis sounded utterly baffled.

“You'll see,” he said, fighting to keep the laughter down. “It's very personal and important to me.”

The sound of rustling cloth and movement could be heard. “Let me fetch Clarus and we can be at your office in half an hour. Or would you prefer one of the private meeting rooms?”

“A private meeting room,” answered Cor after a moment of consideration. “And thank you, your Majesty.”

“It's always a pleasure to help a friend. Room 1-1 should be free for us to use,” the King said, a smile sounding in his voice.

Cor hung up and redirected his attention back towards Nyx, who was still staring at him, one hand braced on the desk.

“His Majesty will see us in half an hour in meeting room 1-1,” Cor stated.

Nyx yelped. “Half an hour?”

“Yes.”

That's all Cor could say as he watched his fiancée bolt for the door. Before he reached it however, he paused and strode back towards him.

“Idiot,” he murmured just loud enough for Cor to hear, fondness lacing his voice, as their foreheads touched for barely a second. Then he was gone.

_Your idiot_, Cor thought but couldn't bring himself to say. Even to an empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys.  
Originally I wanted Regis and Clarus to have the shocks of their lives this chapter, but the thought of having it through Nyx' POV while he flails through the gift giving, was too tempting.  
Cor has very Cor ideas about dating and Monica is just So Done with this man. Also, somehow Cor got turned into a bit of a history nerd. That probably happened after his fight with Gilgamesh. Please learn some impulse control.
> 
> Untill next chapter :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nyx is a Panic and Cor gets a present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in Hadnissa:
> 
> Galahkar = person of Galahd  
oirkar = chief, clan head; lit.: leading person; a title

There wasn't much time to prepare. Pitioss, there wasn't even enough time to think clearly. Half an hour. Half a fucking hour. Damn Cor Leonis and that roguish glint in his too pretty blue eyes. That man was secretly laughing at him, Nyx just knew it.

He practically warped out of the front door of the Crownsguard headquarters, ignoring the stares it earned him as he sprinted down the street of the governmental district and into the training facilities for the Glaive. The door of his locker gave an ominous creek as he practically ripped it from its hinges. Nyx was so glad he hadn't been able to leave the necklace at home. This was something he had made with his own two hands and was intended for who was supposed to be the most important person in his life.

Cor Leonis was filling this spot far faster than Nyx had anticipated or even expected in the first place.

All eyes were on him as he ran into the mess hall, doors banging against the wall and a manic glint in his eyes. He plugged Libertus from the line of those waiting for their meal and dragged him by the arm to where he saw Luche sitting with his usual crowd.

“Nyx? Hey stop, damn it. What's gotten into you?” Libertus complained.

Nyx didn't listen, too focused on the shrinking window of time he had left.

Luche raised an inquiring eyebrow but didn't get the chance to say anything.

“I need you to be my witness, Luche of Clan Lazarus,” Nyx rushed so say, formal but also not, because there was no _time_.

The blond stopped and blinked, his eyes widened the tiniest bit in surprise. Next to him Tredd choked on his food and both Sonitus and Axis slowly turned to look at each other.

“Wait, now?” Libertus sputtered. “I thought you would need at least a week to organize this. You just finished your Gift of Acceptance yesterday!”

“Nyx wants Luche to witness a gift giving?” Axis asked flabbergasted, and honestly rightly so.

While the Ulric and Lazarus Clans had no animosity between them, the weren't allied either. Said Lazarus eyed him in consideration, brows furrowed and fingers tapping along the edge of the table. Nyx quite admirably resisted the urge to show his growing impatience. Something calculating flittered through Luche's grey eyes before it was gone a second later and he nodded his acceptance.

“Lumo varistos,” Nyx said with the sincerity he could muster, which caused even more people to do a double take.

“Where will it be?” enquired Luche as he stood up, leaving his half eaten lunch on the table.

Tredd grinned and pulled the plate closer to himself. Luche scoffed at the redhead's behaviour while the other two sitting at the table just rolled their eyes.

“Why waste a meal?” Tredd shrugged and continued eating the bland food.

“In the Citadel, meeting room 1-1 and we have,” he checked the clock on the wall and felt his stomach flip in anticipation, “fifteen minutes to get there.”

“Couldn't you have told us a bit earlier, you hero? And you owe me a full course meal for this, because of you I'll miss lunch,” complained Libertus and practically pushed Nyx out of the mess hall, Luche right beside them.

The only thing betraying his amusement was the tiny upward tick of his lips.

They made it with barely a minute to spare. Internally Nyx apologized to the poor secretary that had tried to stop them and they had practically bowled over.

Meeting room 1-1 was decked out in all blacks and greys and golds with a large table dominating the room. At its farthest end Cor, the King and the Lord Shield were already waiting for them. The latter two looked surprised at their entrance. The Lord Shield seemed to be ready to say something but a glance from Cor made him back down with a frown on his face.

“Your Majesty, Lord Shield,” Nyx greeted with a bow Libertus and Luche copied.

“Sir Ulric,” the King answered with a shallow nod. “I take it there's a reason for you and your companions to be here?”

At the deceptively mild tone in the King's voice Nyx very carefully did not show how nervous he was. Damn it, he had always imagined meeting his fiancée's family to be less nerve wrecking. Probably because he had always thought he would court another Galahkar and not a Lucian.

“Yes, your Majesty,” he said clearly.

Not really having the mind for pondering further what the King and the Lord Shield might be thinking, he stepped further into the room and Cor met him halfway. Conscious of the Lucian audience he did not lean in to greet his fiancée with a touch of their foreheads. Instead Nyx gave him a slightly crooked smile and pulled a small wooden jewel case out of the pouch at his hip. Within, neatly folded up, lay the necklace.

The moment he saw it a quiet wonderment sparked within Cor's eyes and left a warm glow of pride deep Nyx' chest. Carefully, he picked the necklace up and held it so everybody in the room could see it.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Libertus giving him a discreet thumbs up and Luche not so subtly gaping at it. Nyx nearly burst out laughing at the sight. He did not look directly at the King or his Shield in fear their reaction would make him loose his nerves. Which honestly was quite cowardly.

But even if he had wanted to look, he wouldn't have been able to. The moment he looked up from the necklace, Cor's eyes captured him. His gaze felt like a shower of warm summer rain on his skin.

As subtly as he could he cleared his throat and held his Gift of Acceptance out towards his fiancée.

“Yesterday you gave me a precious gift, one I readily accepted. You did so observing the traditions of my culture, though you don't know them, though they aren't your own. Cor of the Leonis line, yesterday you gifted me with the symbol of my Clan and I became part of your family. Today, under the watchful eyes of your family and mine, I give you my answer and with it will become part of my own family and my people, should you accept.”

To Nyx it felt like his mouth had been moving on its own, as if another person had taken over part of his body and he was just along for the ride. Had Libertus secretly asked for help from one of his ancestors? He better not have. Hunting-brother or not, this was something that he had to do without help from beyond the Gate.

It was only because Nyx was staring so intently at his fiancée's face that he noticed his eyebrow tick up minutely in astonishment. Had he forgotten to mention that? No, no he was pretty sure he had explained that part.

For a long second there was silence and Nyx had to bite his tongue as to not embarrass himself by blurting out more words than he already had. It was Cor's decision to make and Cor's alone. Should he not accept the whole engagement would be called off without either party loosing face, which was the only way to do so in this situation, if he thought about it.

Damn, why hadn't he thought to talk to Cor in more detail about these things?

Calloused fingers brushed along his own and shot warmth up his arm like lightning as they took the necklace from his hand. Curiosity clear on his face now, Cor examined the Gift of Acceptance and Nyx forced himself not to fidget while he did so. The gift was only accepted should Cor wear it. He was perfectly within his right to judge his worth by examining his craftsmanship.

He wondered again if Cor knew what the engraved wing meant, as his attention rested on it for the longest out of all other components. His fiancée fiddled with the slip knots used to adjust the length of the necklace and without further ado slipped it over his head. Just like that.

The causal action took his breath away.

“This is very fine craftsmanship and it's an honour to wear it. Thank you,” Cor said.

_Don't blush, don't you dare blush now_, Nyx internally admonished himself as the weight of Cor's gaze settled on him again like a blanket. He couldn't help the wide smile, though.

It was a heady feeling, seeing his fiancée – also his _family_ now! - wear his gift. It made him giddy and warm from the inside, like he was carrying a sun in his chest. Nyx felt like he was glowing just as brightly.

“Your family and mine as witness, the gift has been accepted,” he managed to say before he forgot.

He would be excused if he did, he thought has he traced how the necklace rested just over his fiancée's collar bones with his eyes.

A pointed cough made him tear his eyes away and come face to face with the King. The man's expression cycled from astonishment to surprise to amusement, back so astonishment and something warm Nyx could not quite place. Next to him his Shield looked like he had been hit by a lightning bolt. All wide eyes and slack jaw. It was nearly comical to see the normally so composed man like that.

“Please explain to me what I just witnessed, Marshall,” the King said with a placid smile that made the fine hairs on Nyx' neck stand on end.

With an uncharacteristic nervous shift Cor turned to fully face the King and simultaneously took half a step closer to Nyx. They did not quite touch, but to feel the other's body heat was a reassurance all on its own.

“I got engaged,” Cor stated like it explained everything.

Nyx felt his forehead slump against his fiancée's shoulder and bit his lip not to laugh out loud. Libertus' exasperated groan was joined by another one he did not recognize.

A sigh.

“Cor,” said the King and it sounded like exasperation, indulgence and fondness all rolled into one. “What did you do?”

A minute tremor went through Cor's shoulders and Nyx realized that he, too had to keep from laughing out loud.

He lifted his head and stepped up so he stood next to Cor. “Your Majesty, Ser Leonis proposed to me yesterday. As per the tradition of my people, I had to give him my Gift of Acceptance in front of members of his family,” he explained in an attempt to help.

The King tilted his head, eyes curious and considering. “I gather there must not be a blood connection to be considered family.”

“No, your Majesty. It's the people you trust the most on a hunt, those you would follow through life and death and never abandon you through any hardship.”

The King nodded and his eyes fell on the necklace. “This is very good craftsmanship, indeed. Would you perchance be amendable to give me the name of the person who fashioned this piece?”

Nyx blinked and something like indignation flashed through Luche's eyes. Which, fair. That question bordered very close to rude. He raised a questioning eyebrow in the blond's direction, who nodded, surprised.

“I crafted this necklace, your Majesty, as is tradition. A Gift of Acceptance must always be handcrafted. If Majesty is interested in our jewellery, the Lazarus Clan would be the best to contact. Being jewellers has been their traditional occupation since the founding of Galahd,” Nyx hurried to say to soothe some ruffled feathers.

“My most sincere compliments then, Sir Ulric,” the King said with a small smile and then turned to Luche. “Sir Lazarus, I would like to contact a jeweller of your Clan for a commission, if possible.”

Luche's eyebrows nearly vanished into his hairline. “We do take commissions. I will talk to one of my cousins, your Majesty.”

“My thanks,” the King said. “Now. I do not want to keep you gentlemen from your posts, lest you get into trouble with Captain Drautos. Cor, please stay for a moment.”

That was very clearly not a request. Nyx bowed and turned to Cor. His fiancée gave him a tiny smile, barely an upturn of the corners of his mouth.

“I'll call you after your shift is finished,” Cor murmured.

He leaned in and their foreheads and noses touched. Nyx closed his eyes and savoured the feeling, their breaths mingling gently. For a few moments the world fell away and he basked in the warmth the closeness gave him. Calloused fingers tangled with his own and he forced himself to step away.

“All right,” he smiled, and, with a gentle squeeze of his fingers as a silent good-bye, followed Libertus and Luche out of the meeting room.

None of them spoke until they had left the Citadel.

“A necklace, Ulric, really? And with your own Clan beads? No wonder you asked me to come,” Luche commented with an air of exasperation he normally reserved for Tredd. “And you let him?” he inquired towards Libertus.

His hunting-brother scowled, then shrugged in a _what-can-you-do_ way. “He's an Ulric. They either jump right in head first or not at all.”

“This Ulric is right here and listening. You and everybody else saw what he gifted me. There was no other possible way for me to answer,” Nyx defended himself with a huff.

“That pelt was very impressive,” Luche conceded.

Nyx nodded, pacified. The pelt was very impressive, indeed. At the moment it had a place of honour being draped over his armchair.

“You'll need to officially announce this soon and the both of you need to be seen together during the next storytelling, or the traditionalists are going to have a fit,” Libertus warned as they stepped into the Headquarters of the Kingsglaive.

“I know. I'll talk to Cor about it. We'll also need to speak to Oirkar Arra to register his name as a Clan name.”

“You are really going to introduce him to our culture?” Luche wanted to know.

“It may not have happened often before now, but it did happen. You know how the Furia became a Clan, right?” Nyx asked back.

The blond gave him a look. Of course he knew about it. The Lazarus were allied with the Furia, after all. It would be insulting, if he didn't.

“It might be kind of fun to see how Leonis will deal with it,” Libertus interrupted their stare-down.

Nyx snorted. He wouldn't say fun exactly, but interesting certainly. Wait, did Cor even want to be involved that much? Both Libertus and Luche turned around as Nyx stopped short in the hallway.

“Hey, you alright there, Nyx? Quit dreaming about your other half or we'll be late!” his hunting-brother called, a quiet worry in his eyes.

“I'm coming,” he shot back and shook his head.

This was something he could think about later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taling so long XD
> 
> But I finally did it! Regis gave me a bit of trouble.   
Not much to say on this one other than: more culture things! Yay!  
Next chapter will have a bit more on the overarching plot going on.
> 
> Until then!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cor gets a talking to. And some plot theads move half a step forward.

The door fell shut with a quiet _click_ and for a second longer Cor refused to look around to his two best friends – his _family_, as Nyx had called them. He knew what he would see when he turned around.

“Cor,” said Regis, voice pleading.

“No,” Cor returned, more out of an old reflex than anything else.

He turned away from the door and came face to face with the saddest green eyes he had ever seen. Clarus just stood next to their King, arms behind his back and an eyebrow raised in expectation. A loud sigh climbed up his throat and Cor did not bother to keep it in.

“Ask,” he prompted and crossed his arms.

Clarus still didn't say anything. The Shield had always been of the opinion that the silent treatment worked best, Cor knew, and more often than not it had caused another sort of trouble.

Regis on the other hand gave him a gentle smile, barely visible beneath his beard, and part satisfaction part thankfulness. The kind of smile he always wore when he was able to harmlessly mess in the private lives of his friends. None of them, neither Clarus, nor Cor, nor Cid or Weskham had ever had the heart to deny him his bit of fun. No matter how aggravating it may be at first.

“Why did you not tell us that you were seeing someone? Is it because he is male or because he is Galahdian? You must know that as long as you are happy in any relationship you enter, neither Clarus nor I will truly have anything against it,” Regis told him while Clarus nodded to signal his agreement.

“I wasn't,” Cor said in way of an explanation.

“You weren't what?” Regis prompted.

Cor suppressed a sigh. Wasn't it obvious? He would never hide a relationship he was in because the other person was also male or “below his station”. Even in his thoughts Cor could see the massive air quotes at that statement.

Most people tended to conveniently forget that Cor himself had been born outside Insomnia and had only become a citizen within its walls when he had entered King Mors' services. Before that he had been a half starved kid swinging his father's sword around.

“I wasn't in a relationship until yesterday,” Cor elaborated very matter of fact.

Regis opened his mouth and closed it again when he heard that. Clarus heaved a heavy sigh. The Shield muttered something beneath his breath that sounded suspiciously like: “I should have known”, as his gaze travelled towards the ceiling, as if to plead with the Astrals for more patience.

“Please tell us what exactly happened, Cor”, Regis requested gently with just a hint of exasperation and desperation.

Cor was impressed.

“It started on my patrol outside the city four days ago. Nothing noteworthy happened until I was on my way back and came upon a group of people in need for help. Not long after I helped them deal with the wildlife trying to kill them, it turned out they were poachers, so I killed the ones trying to attack me and arrested the rest. They are awaiting their sentence now.”

He paused for a moment, trying to decide how to continue.

“So you're the one who has some of the Lords in such a tizzy,” Clarus said, amused.

Cor smirked.

“Is this about the complaint Lord Sagitta wants to bring forth about your so called inadequate behaviour?” Regis asked only a tad resigned.

A wave of sympathy welled up within Cor as he nodded. Some of the nobles of the court could rob you of your last nerve and more of your time than they deserved. Lord Sagitta was one of those Lords.

“It must be because of the meeting I had with him and Lords Caulis and Hypocris yesterday, about the poachers I took prisoner.”

Regis hummed thoughtfully. “I can see how Lords Caulis and Hypocris might get involved in this. But Lord Sagitta? The Minister of Outside Affairs shouldn't be concerned with a group of poachers the Marshall dragged back for sentencing.”

“I think it has something to do with the coeurl pelts I found,” Cor stated dryly.

“Ah,” made Regis. “Yes, I can see that.”

“You should really look into finding a new Minister, Regis. Lord Sagitta has clearly been accepting bribes, I told you that before,” Clarus spoke up.

“I know my friend. Sadly, finding substantial evidence to this accusation has been proven to be rather unfruitful,” Regis sighed.

“I'll get Monica on it”, Cor offered.

“Yes, please do. Ms. Elshett has proven very competent in helping to deal with the last mess”, Regis decided after a few seconds of consideration.

“Now, please enlighten us: how is all of this relevant to you getting engaged?” Clarus asked.

“I claimed the coeurl pelts as my battle-spoils”, Cor started up again.

“Of course you did. No wonder Lord Hypocris was practically frothing at the mouth when I saw him in the halls yesterday. Those pelts are worth a fortune”, Clarus interrupted. “What are you planning to do with them?”

“My original intention was to gift them to the Galahdian community,” Cor explained now slightly annoyed at the interruptions. “I do not know much about their culture, but I _do_ know that coeurls are considered sacred animals.”

Both other men blinked in surprise. Cor frowned.

“Really, Regis? I understand Clarus not knowing, but you?”

Clarus shot him his best _I-don't-like-what-you're-insinuating-here_ look while Regis frowned.

“I think”, he spoke at last, “the Council for Cultural Understanding has been rather remiss in their work.”

Cor took a deep breath. It wasn't Regis' fault. It truly wasn't. His best friend did what he could but some things simply flew under the radar when it was up against keeping Niflheim at bay and keeping the government functional with all the schemes that had slowly been piling up over the years. A man could only do so much.

No, he did not blame Regis for this oversight. But they_ had _been on Galahd for however short a time. They had seen their art, listened to their language, heard their music and eaten their food. The coeurl motive had been everywhere, as had what he thought to be some kind of snake, though Cor didn't know what its significance was.

Not to mention the story he had told Monica this morning.

“I can look into it”, he proposed.

“Are you sure you can manage that with everything else you have been doing?” Clarus spoke up, worried.

Cor shot him an unimpressed stare. “The only ones actively fighting are the Kingsglaive. I might have some time in which to do this.”

“Cor.” The Shield shot him a warning glare.

“I'm sorry, my friend, but you know why-”

“I know, Regis. I know”, Cor said, softer now than the harsher tones with which he had spoken before.

It truly wasn't fair to the King. The man did his best, but sometimes the best was simply not enough.

A heavy silence settled around them.

“We keep getting distracted. You wanted to give the Galahdians a gift worth a fortune. And then?” Clarus prompted.

“They call themselves Galahkari – Galahkar is the singular. I knew that all of Galahd considers coeurls sacred and when I overheard two Galahkari talk about their connection to the Ulric line, I thought it best to give them to Nyx. So I got one of the five pelts cleaned up, went to the Glaive's training grounds yesterday and gave it to him. As it turns out, gifting an Ulric a coeurl pelt is a sure-fire way to get engaged to one.”

Cor's fingers skimmed over his new necklace as he watched his two friends exchange a look. He knew that look. It was their _Cor-did-something-reckless-again_ look.

“You could not just have cleared up this misunderstanding?” Regis asked hesitantly.

“And insult them and their culture even worse than most Insomnians already do? No”, Cor stated.

“Are you sure the two of you fit together?” Regis pressed.

The Marshal frowned. “I may not know him well, but I know Nyx Ulric doesn't do anything half-arsed. He is as committed to this as I am.”

“What Regis wants to know”, Clarus cut in, exasperated, “is if the two of you can be happy together. Arranged matches are a fight all on their own, and that battle ground is one you don't have much experience in, Cor.”

Without conscious thought his fingers picked at the black bead of the necklace and felt the detailed, if slightly uneven, engravings of the wing. Strength found in protecting something you hold dear. But also a symbol of royal protection.

Regis and Clarus followed his movement and their gazes softened, some of their worry easing. It was obvious that much thought had gone into making this necklace, and that Nyx had made it himself spoke of determination, patience and an iron will to truly make this relationship work.

“We talked about it, this relationship. Oh, don't look so surprised. I can talk things out, you know? I could have said no to the necklace, and we would have gone our separate ways. But this is a one in a lifetime opportunity and I wasn't going to waste it. Maybe now we can finally get over the divide between us, the religious differences caused. Weren't you ever curious as to why the Galahkari forsook the Astrals like they did?”

“I have always wondered”, Regis admitted after a few seconds of silence. “There are so few written accounts left from that time, it all has been more guesswork than anything else.”

Clarus nodded, thoughtful. “From the few documents my family still has, we know Gilgamesh was somehow involved with this. But how exactly I cannot say.”

Cor tilted his head, thoughtful. Now that would be an idea.

“Cor, no”, Clarus ordered, his mien stern.

The Marshal just looked at him until Clarus pinched the bridge of his nose and Regis shot him a resigned look.

“Just don't do anything too rash, please?” Regis said.

Cor nodded, already thinking about how he could convince Nyx. They could file it under a reconnaissance mission and camp outside for a week. Just them, hunting, maybe taking down some Niffs and a visit down Tealpar Crag. Satisfied with this plan, Cor nodded again.

“Have you taken Sir Ulric out for dinner yet?” Regis suddenly asked.

“No”, Cor admitted and squinted at the King in speculation.

“If you want to unofficially announce your engagement, I would recommend the _Red Shroud_.”

Cor had heard of the _Red Shroud_. Who hadn't? It was a regular place for journalists to lurk in search for the next social sensation. The high-end restaurant was near exclusively for nobility and a neutral ground for alliances through marriage to be forged.

If he were to go there with Nyx he would send a very clear message. That they were in a relationship, for one, that they were seriously considering marriage and that the whole thing was arranged.

“I don't think that's a good place for now”, Clarus came to his aid.

“Probably not”, Regis hummed, tapping his fingers against the handle of his cane. “Then you should take him to a place that serves food he likes.”

Cor nodded. That he could most certainly do. And then they could talk about his idea of a camping trip in addition to a few other things they needed to clear up.

Regis gave an amused chuckle. Clarus and Cor looked at him inquisitively.

“You know what this means?”

“No, what?” Cor asked.

The King's eyes glittered impishly. Cor suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

“It means I can finally give you that lordship I have been meaning to grant you, and you always denied.”

“Regis, no”, Cor groaned, resigned.

His only answer was an unrepentant laugh.

“And don't dare not to invite us to your wedding. My wife will haunt you, if you don't.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> No Cor/Nyx interaction this chapter, sadly. But the next one will contain their dinner date, so I think that makes up for it :)  
Also getting Gilgamesh involved in this. For all the angst involved in the man's story, some reactions to Cor's plan could also prove pretty amusing.  
And all that worldbuilding for Insomnian culture I finally get to do. *cackles*  
I tried my best with Clarus, but I don't think I got him quite right... That guy is hard to pin down for me.  
Hope you had fun reading!
> 
> Until next chapter :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a dinner date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does Mushu impression* I'm alive!
> 
> After some time of having difficulty writing just about anything down, here's the next chapter.   
Finally!  
Have fun reading, ya'll. :D

Nyx stopped so abruptly, Libertus, who had been walking behind him gossiping with Pelna, nearly walked into his back. Nyx didn't care, too busy staring down at the base of the stairs. There Cor Leonis stood, arms crossed, with his usual frown on his face. It cleared the tiniest bit when he noticed Nyx staring at him.

Something undefinable fluttered within his stomach. His shift had ended nearly half an hour ago, but he had stayed a bit longer to chat with some of his comrades and to fill Crowe in on what had happened earlier that day. Needless to say the teasing had been merciless.

Behind him Libertus gave an indignant squawk which devolved into an amused chuckle when he saw what – or rather who – Nyx was staring at. His large hand patted Nyx on the shoulder.

“Seems like you're in high demand,” his best friend and hunting-brother grinned.

Nyx growled half heartedly in a warning he knew to be useless. He would take his revenge the next time they were doing warping exercises in training. They would see who had the last laugh then.

For now he contented himself with a scowl in Libertus' direction that came dangerously close to a pout. Pelna just rolled his eyes at their antics and started to drag Libertus down the stairs.

“See you tomorrow, Nyx,” the darker skinned man called over his shoulder. “Tethys wants me to invite you to breakfast tomorrow.”

“Wait, not me?” Libertus called, utterly scandalized.

“It's not like we can...” The rest of Pelna's answer was swallowed by the growing distance between them and the throng of people on the walkway.

A few other Galahkari lurked nearby, talking amongst each other and trying to look like they weren't paying attention to Nyx as he shook his head and started to walk down the stairs. Cor's eyes had never once left him and Nyx couldn't help the growing smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey,” he said once he was close enough and tried not to be self conscious of the frazzled state of one of his braids; he just hadn't been able to stop tugging at it every time his thoughts had wandered to how Cor had looked wearing the necklace he had made for him, which had set his heart aflutter.

“Hello, Nyx,” greeted Cor.

He didn't smile – Nyx had the feeling Cor didn't smile much in general – but the cold blue of his eyes turned warm like the clear summer sky. Their foreheads touched in a greeting that both of them were slowly growing accustomed to. Nyx swore he could hear someone coo at them, but ignored it in favour of staring at Cor, which was so much more interesting.

They parted and Nyx traced his fiancée's face with his eyes. The fine wrinkles on his forehead, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, the sharp line of his nose, the thin lips and the near invisible scars that came from a lifetime of fighting. Cor Leonis was a very handsome man. Nyx had known that before this moment, of course, but it was only now it really hit him just how handsome. From one moment to the next he felt like he had swallowed his tongue.

Suddenly a thought hit him.

“Wait, how long have you been standing there waiting for me?” he blurted.

The next moment Nyx wanted to hit himself over the head, like Crowe tended to when he said something really stupid.

Cor just raised an eyebrow and looked at him like that was a dumb question. Which, honestly, was answer enough.

“I wanted to invite you to the dinner I promised,” the Marshall said instead.

“Sure,” Nyx agreed after a heartbeat of consideration.

No, scratch that, he didn't need to think even a moment about it. They really, really needed to talk on how they would proceed with their relationship, otherwise they would probably kill each other before the next storm season over some kind of misunderstanding.

At the fast answer Cor blinked slowly and his mouth fell into a tiny “o” shape. Nyx needed a second to realize that that was Cor's 'I am surprised' face. Why was he surprised? Was this some mainlander thing he did not know about? Before he could consider the question further, the older man started to speak again.

“Do you have any preferences or allergies?”

His knee-jerk reaction was to answer Galahkari food, obviously. But he forced himself to consider the question seriously. Cor would probably have no real idea of what Galahkari food was actually like, other than what he had eaten the short time the Marshall had been on the islands before they had been conquered by the Niffs, and the few dishes the mainlanders had appropriated. And for this relationship to work, it couldn't just be all about Nyx' own culture.

So he tilted his head and gave a thoughtful hum before answering: “Grilled meats and fish. I'm also very partial to stews and curry dishes. The spicier the meals are, the better. And I don't have any allergies.”

Cor gave a serious nod. “I know a good curry place by the river. Would you be interested?”

“Sure,” Nyx said again. “Want to go now?”

It was already close to dinner time and Nyx felt his stomach rumble at the thought of food, since he had missed lunch. On that note, Nyx really wanted to ask how his talk with King Regis had gone, but wasn't quite sure how to ask.

They walked down the streets, comfortable with the silence between them. People were staring as they passed them. Nyx supposed it was quite unusual to see the famed Immortal walking side by side with an immigrant of all people. To his eternal relief they passed right by the block where most of Insomnia's high end restaurants were located and took the stairs down from the main street to the level below.

The buildings here belonged to the middle class, well taken care of but in a place that was slowly loosing value due to it being built over. Cor obviously knew these streets well as he guided Nyx through what he supposed were shortcuts until they reached a promenade.

It was a wide pedestrian area with shops on one side and a balustrade on the other. Trees had been planted in large pots set in the ground, every few metres and one level below them gurgled the river. It was a mild evening, the setting sun reflected on the windows of the shops and restaurants. Nyx and Cor walked through the large crowd, shoulders brushing now and then and every time a searing warmth travelled down to his fingertips. They twitched with the sudden urge to hold Cor's hand again.

“It's not far now,” Cor broke the comfortable silence between them.

Nyx nodded and followed Cor's gaze down the promenade towards the only building standing directly at the edge, the street curving in a zigzag pattern to make space for it. It was largely made out of old stone with large windows and a sloping roof. Over the large entrance, old lettering that Nyx could barely decipher, proclaimed this place to be the _Old Watchtower_. In Nyx' opinion the place had all but nothing to do with a watchtower.

“Until about five hundred years ago there was a bridge here and next to it a watchtower. Both were torn down when the Arcus Bridge was build. The then King had decreed that there would be no more than three bridges spanning this river,” Cor explained as if he had read Nyx' thoughts.

“That's...”

How did one say 'utterly stupid' nicely?

“Absolutely moronic? I know.” His fiancée's lips stretched into a barely discernible grin. “History may call all Kings great warriors and unparalleled strategists, but that's as true as me saying I want to retire to breed chocobos.”

“Do you want to?” Nyx could help but blurt out. Damn him and his big mouth. “Breed chocobos, I mean.”

He felt his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment, but all he got for an answer was a non-committal hum and the corners of Cor's eyes crinkling in amusement. Nyx froze in surprise.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Are you coming?” was the only thing Cor said as he opened the front door of the restaurant.

With something that Libertus would have called his perturbed coeurl face, Nyx shook his head to banish the utterly ridiculous scene their exchange had planted in his mind, and followed the other man inside.

The first thing Nyx noticed was the heart warming smell of curry. The interior was brightly lit, in part due to the large windows and the lights that spread their golden light where the natural light was beginning to grow too dim to comfortably see. Nyx wouldn't call it homey, but he could see why Insomnians would do so. The tabletops were all made of polished stone and the rest of the furniture consisted of some kind of artificial wood in a dark brown colour.

“Ah, Lord Marshall! Welcome back. May I guide you to your usual seat?”

A waitress suddenly appeared from behind the coat rack, startling Nyx out of his observation of the large room. She was a tall, solidly built woman with muscular arms and a round face. Her black hair was bound in that tight bun the Insomnian women favoured. The smile she graced the Marshall with was genuine.

Cor shook his head. “Not this time, thank you, Miss Epula. A private table for two, please. Outside, if possible.”

Miss Epula's eyes wandered from Cor to Nyx and back again, a look of astonished wonder on her face. Not a second later she smiled brightly and full of pride as she nodded.

“Of course, Lord Marshall! Please follow me.”

They both followed her through the large room to a glass door, Nyx hadn't seen from the entrance. It led out towards a patio that overlooked the river. There were surprisingly few tables scattered between potted plants and vines crawling up wooden beams. Lights were strewn all over and would give off a warm golden light as soon as it became dark enough.

The waitress guided them towards a table to the far right, nearly hidden from the rest of the patio by a low wall upon which potted plants were crowded, and with a very good view over the water. It was a good place to eat and have a private conversation in.

Cor waited until Nyx had chosen a seat before he himself sat down, which seemed to make the waitress even more excited. Miss Epula handed out the menus she had carried clamped under her arm, before she headed off.

“Why is she acting like that?” Nyx couldn't help but ask as soon as she was out of earshot.

He wondered, if he was missing something here.

Cor raised a brow in amusement. “Your people have your way of courting someone and my people have ours.”

“Oh,” Nyx breathed, feeling his mouth fall open.

Nervousness prickled under his skin and suddenly he wasn't as confident as he had been three seconds ago. Was this how Cor had felt when he had given Nyx the pelt? He felt his regard for the man sitting in front of him raise a great margin at the thought.

“What do I do?” he found himself asking, desperate not to mess this up.

“What we do is nothing as intrinsic and detailed as your traditions,” Cor tried to assure him. “If you are in a serious relationship with someone and are considering marriage, you invite your partner out to a meal and ask for a private table.”

“So you basically signalled that we are doing marriage talks?” Nyx asked to make sure that he understood this right.

Cor nodded. “Most of these traditions are very old and come from a time when marriages were being arranged and the meals in public places were used for the couple to get to know each other and for the parents to negotiate. It doesn't translate that well into modern times, but now this is used as a way for a couple to discuss their marriage more than anything else.” His eyes shone in a mischievous light. “We are doing it the old fashioned way, more or less.”

Nyx couldn't help but snort. The explanation calmed him down somewhat. He still didn't really understand it. Who can determine if a marriage will work within the span of a meal? Or were there more? There had to be.

His train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Miss Epula. She carried a tray with her upon which two bottles, four glasses and a strange container were located.

“These are on the house,” she said with a bright smile. “Order from up high, so don't even think about arguing, Lord Marshall.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” the man said, partly amused and partly resigned.

The waitress looked at him searchingly, before she nodded, satisfied. She put the glasses down first and then proceeded to fill them, the first with sparkling water and the second with some kind of red wine.

Last, she put down the strange container. It was a bright red and was long and thin with a tube sticking up at one end. The whole thing was formed like a dragon rearing its head. Miss Epula opened the long and thin part. Within laid thin sticks that held a wooden smell. She selected one, closed the container and put it in the dragon's open mouth. A few seconds later the tip was giving off a gently scented smoke.

“Do you already know what you would like to order?” she asked.

Both men shook their heads.

“I'll be back in a few minutes, then,” she said and went back inside.

“They seem to know you pretty well,” Nyx commented while staring at the dragon with the smoking stick in its mouth.

The smell reminded him of the scented wood sticks Galahkari burnt when moving houses or apartments. It was only polite to leave behind a clean living space when you moved out, to which belonged the cleaning of smells.

“Monica introduced me to this place years ago. They are discreet and the staff knows how to keep private talks private,” Cor answered.

His near permanent frown slowly melted away more and more. It was fascinating to see how the wrinkles between the Marshall's eyebrows vanished, as did the quiet tension in the corners of his eyes and the tightness around his mouth. Cor Leonis was a handsome man who lost five years the moment his facial features relaxed.

“Let's order and then we should talk,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Nyx agreed and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

The menu was surprisingly small for a Lucian restaurant, with only different curries as options for the main course. He read through the different options and involuntarily sat straighter when he saw the second to last one.

“What is it?” Cor asked.

Was that worry in his voice?

Nyx shook his head. “Nothing.”

“You look like you have been hit over the head by the flat side of a blade. It's not nothing.” It was a statement that brooked no argument.

Nyx looked up to see of the waitress was anywhere near them before he dared to answer in a near whisper. “They have a bamohn curry.”

Cor raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Bamohn is a spice made out of a nut that is native to Galahd. Because of the embargo the Niffs declared it has been getting more and more difficult for us to get it,” Nyx explained, voice thick.

Cor did not do something stupid like offer empty platitudes. Instead he nodded gravely and asked: “Would you like to try it?”

The Glaive managed a nod and a wobbly smile, not sure why this made him so emotional all of the sudden. Bamohn was a very common spice on Galahd. They put it in damn near everything, but it didn't grow very well in Cavaugh and especially Insomnia. Which had made it into something of a commodity.

“Good,” Cor said and nipped at his glass of water. “If you are willing to answer, I have a few questions for you.”

“Of course, go ahead. That's why we're here, are we not?”

Blue eyes met blue and for a few more seconds Cor cloaked himself in a thoughtful silence.

“This morning you said that this necklace declared me one of yours. Could you elaborate on that?”

On reflex Nyx' eyes fell on the necklace his fiancée wore clearly visible around his neck. For a few long seconds he couldn't do more than stare and admire how the beads rested along the collar bones. He swallowed and forced himself to look somewhere else.

“I already told you that a necklace is considered a substitute for a braid. Braids announce who we are to each other, our standing in life and the connections we hold between each other,” Nyx started to explain while Cor listened attentively. “You wearing that necklace announces to everyone who knows what it is that you're now part of our social structure. Which a straahnos – an outsider or foreigner – has never been. Not to the same extend as the necklace says you are, anyway. Some of the more traditional amongst us won't be very happy about that.”

“Will there be problems for you?” The frown was back, but now with a more thoughtful and worried tilt to it.

Before Nyx could answer Miss Epula came back.

“Lord Marshall, Sir Glaive. Have you decided?”

“A plate of garlic bread for the two of us to share to start with, please. I'll take the green anak curry and my partner the bamohn curry.”

She nodded. “Anything else?”

“I would like the curry extra hot, please,” Nyx spoke up.

The waitress raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you sure? Bamohn curry in and of itself is already a very hot dish. Most people avoid it because of that.”

“I'm sure,” he answered with a crooked grin. “Make it as hot as you can.”

The woman looked doubtful for another second before her eyes fell on his braids and she shrugged. “Of course.” With that she took the menus and walked away again.

Nyx grinned, amused at the look Cor gave him. “What you mainlanders consider spicy is most of the time not even a mild burn for us. Most Lucian food is really bland because of that.”

The man nodded mutely before he repeated his earlier question.

“It won't.” Nyx shook his head. “We're not really hung up on it, but the Clans have a hierarchy, so to speak.”

“How high up is Clan Ulric in this hierarchy?”

“Pretty high up. So most people won't do more than talk. That reminds me: if we don't want to agitate some of my people more than we already have, there are some things you should be aware of.” Nyx took a sip of water to give himself a few seconds to think while Cor tilted his head in a 'continue' sort of way. “First they will most likely insist that your name be added to the roster of Clans. And with your permission I would like to do so.”

“What does that entail exactly?”

Cor's face had become a mask of neutrality. Nyx suppressed the urge to fiddle with his braid and instead shifted in his chair.

“It would grant you... uh... it would make you a member of two countries?”

“A double citizenship?”

“Yes, that! It would grant you double citizenship. It means you will be able to partake in our rites, attend our political meetings and can be invited to speak during them. You don't need to decide now,” Nyx hurried to explain. “You have until the next storytelling to do that, and that's in three days.”

“I will think about it,” Cor promised after a few long seconds and Nyx felt himself relax again.

That was all he could ask of the other.

“Secondly, you are invited to said next storytelling. The storytellers hold one once every week and they're open for all Galahkari to attend. It is where our histories are told and we come together to talk.”

A slight smile tugged at the edges of Cor's lips and crinkled his eyes. The sight made Nyx' heart skip a beat and his stomach flutter.

“That I can agree to do.”

Nyx felt a bright smile growing on his face. He caught Cor staring and smiled even wider, a floaty feeling spreading all over his body. All of a sudden he was giddy beyond believe and had nearly forgotten the pang of disappointment that had washed through him when Cor hadn't immediately agreed to add his name to the Clan roster.

He understood, he really did. But he couldn't help it. He knew Cor's loyalty belonged to King Regis first and that he was some kind of lord, even if Nyx didn't know what that title entailed. Luche might know, so he should probably ask him.

Their food came and when Miss Epula saw them both smile at each other, she grinned happily and unabashed as she set down the dishes.

Most of their meal they spent in comfortable silence with the occasional small burst of conversation between them. Which ended when out of the blue, Cor dropped a question.

“Would you like to go on a trip with me?”

Nyx felt his heart stutter in his chest. “A trip?” he repeated.

“Yes. Outside the wall for about a week.”

His mouth fell open in disbelief, closed and then opened again, before he burst out laughing. He just couldn't help himself. This man. This impossible man who sat across from him and was now watching him with a raised eyebrow.

“You,” Nyx managed to gasp out between breaths, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “You're _perfect_.”

Was that a brief flash of surprise in greyish blue eyes? Was there a near indiscernible dusting of red on a normally serious face?

It took Nyx a minute to calm down enough to explain: “It's a part of our courting tradition. Going out on camping and hunting trips to see how well the couple can work together and watch out for each other. The jungles can be very dangerous, so if you can't trust in the strength of your partner, death is very much a possibility.”

Interest shone in Cor's eyes as he leaned forward slightly, a piece of garlic bread in one hand. The bread was fresh out of the oven and tasted surprisingly well for all that the hottest spice was the garlic.

“People have died during courting?”

“Yeah. I mean, us Galahkari are very strong characters and to reduce the chances of domestic violence and disputes that end in honour duels, we normally have a pretty long courting process.” Nyx put his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek against his fist, an impossibly fascinated look on his face that bordered on being fond. “And for some indescribable reason you, despite not knowing what you're doing, do everything right. But backwards.”

Cor was staring again. His gaze wandered along the lines of Nyx' shoulders, the bend of his neck, traced the contours of his face, travelled over the braids in his hair, the beads, and lastly met his eyes again. In a bout of sudden confidence Nyx smiled. It was more of a grin, really, slow and languid and a touch feral. The Marshall's face did something complicated Nyx couldn't even begin to discern.

“The beads,” the older man said, breaking the heavily charged silence between them with a rougher than normal voice. “They are the same as the ones you gave me.”

A hand motioned towards where his Clan braid was located and Nyx, partly disappointment, partly excited nodded. What exactly had he expected would happen? He had no idea, honestly. Not for Cor to ask another question. Though is was good that he asked them, it showed Nyx that the man was interested and wanted to make this work. He took a deep breath and sat up straight.

“Beads are almost like braids,” Nyx started haltingly, not quite sure how to explain something so intrinsic to his culture as the beads were. “They are used to communicate different things. Together with the braids they're almost a whole language on their own.”

“So we share beads because we're engaged to each other?” Cor tried to clarify.

“Yes and no. The necklace shows that I agreed to marry you, yes. But which materials I used was entirely up to me. They let others know how serious this is for me.”

“They have a special significance?”

Oh, he should just come out and say it.

“They're my Clan beads.” The sentence came out rushed and almost breathless.

Cor frowned. It was clear he didn't understand the significance of this.

“Okay, listen. This is mostly subtext that's just... understood in my culture, but I'll try to explain it as best as I can.” Nyx took another deep breath. “Normally when giving a Gift of Acceptance, it's a braid and a bead or two – a necklace, if the hair cannot be braided. Those beads are traditionally yellow and orange. Other coloured beads can be added of course. Brown and green and – less often – blue. Most of the time they're painted wood or stone. Clan beads aren't used for a gift like that.”

They weren't gifted to an adult outside your Clan, period. But Cor didn't need to know that on top of everything else right now.

“But you did,” the older man stated.

“I did,” Nyx agreed and grimaced. “It was very... presumptuous of me, and for that I apologise. But it was the only thing I could think of giving you, that was of equal value as your gift. What they communicate is that not only do I consider you a member of my Clan in everything but name, but also that I think you worthy of the help of my ancestors. Something like this has never happened before since we settled on Galahd.”

Cor was silent for a long time. Nyx picked at the rests of his curry, but couldn't find the appetite to finish the meal. It was surprisingly good and something he hadn't expected an Insomnian restaurant to manage this well. The curry was just spicy enough, the bamohn just rich enough to remind him of home, even if everything else didn't taste like anything a Galahkar would cook.

Suddenly a warm hand covered the one that rested next to his plate. Startled, Nyx looked up and was immediately caught by the intense gaze of Cor's blue eyes. Every thought he had had until just a second ago was suddenly gone, brushed away by the calloused hand resting on top of his own.

“What you did,” he said, his voice unreadable but warm, “was utterly reckless and stupid. The consequences this might have for you are something I can't even begin to foresee. But despite of that you still did it. If our positions had been reversed, I would have done the same without hesitation. So thank you, for taking this leap of faith for me.”

Where at the beginning of Cor's answer Nyx' stomach had plummeted in dread, he now felt his cheeks grow hot and a silly little grin spread over his face. Without thinking about it, he tangled his fingers with Cor's and squeezed them gently.

“I... you would have?” The words sounded lost to his own ears.

Cor's whole expression shone with a warmth and – dare he say it – fondness that took Nyx' breath away. The other returned the gentle squeeze of his fingers with one of his own.

“People seem to forget that just because I am the Marshall of the Lucian military, I did not stop being a reckless idiot – Clarus' words, not mine.” This sounded suspiciously like a confession. One not only made towards Nyx, but also towards Cor himself.

“You can't have been that reckless,” Nyx blurted out before his mind could stop him.

Cor huffed a tiny laugh and Nyx felt weirdly proud of that. “There's a reason I earned myself the moniker of 'The Immortal' of all things when I was only fifteen.”

Nyx could feel his mouth drop. “Fifteen?! What did you do? Granted, I did some really stupid things at that age, but nothing that would warrant for a moniker.”

“You... don't know?” Cor tilted his head and it made Nyx think of a curious cat.

“No one in the Glaive knows. Doesn't mean people haven't been speculating, but still.”

“Oh? What have they been saying?”

Nyx' free hand came up and waved defensively in front of him. “Nothing,” he practically squeaked.

“I would really like to hear it,” the older man insisted... playfully?

Deciding to take another leap of faith – as if he hadn't done those enough over the last few days – Nyx leaned forward, gripped Cor's hand tighter and grinned.

“What would I get for telling you?”

A heated stare was his answer. It settled like a heated blanket over his body and pooled deep into his gut.

“I would fight you for it.”

It took Nyx a second to process what his fiancée had just said. His eyes widened in surprise, then he threw back his head and laughed. Loud and heartily.

Oh, this man. This utterly impossible, handsome, amazing man.

“Sure,” he agreed with a shit eating grin. “Let's fight over it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the date continues.

A balmy breeze danced over the river where the street lamps reflected on the dark waters like flickering stars. The low murmuring of the water and the music drifting along the promenade, turned the atmosphere into something that could be called romantic, if Cor were to believe Clarus.

Romantic or not, it was peaceful. Cor could appreciate that.

His gaze drifted towards Nyx who walked next to him, his head tilted up as if he was soaking in everything around him. Their steps were in perfect unison and Cor had no idea when their hands had found each other, their fingers interlaced. It felt nice, he decided after a few seconds of contemplation. Their hands fit together quite nicely, callouses and scars and all.

Dinner had gone well. Really well. Better than he had expected. They had not managed to talk about the wedding, but Cor thought he saw some things clearer now.

Galahkari culture was not what he had expected. Sure, he had known most of them were hunters to some degrees and that they didn't have a standing army, that their braids were important and that some families – or clans, rather – were not on good footing with each other. Those were all things that helped him working with the Galahkari in a military setting. It surprised him, however, how strict their culture was for such a wild and carefree people. Then again, from what he could glean from the few passing comments Nyx had made, it wasn't that surprising.

From what he understood their braids and beads had been a survival technique dating back to the time before they had settled on Galahd, they took great care with their marriages to make the possibilities of domestic violence as low as possible and get the partner most fitting for them. Cor could practically hear Clarus gush how romantic that was. There was an intricate social web at play and he wondered just how high up in the social hierarchy the Ulrics really were. To him it sounded like they weren't just 'pretty high up' when Nyx could ignore the social ramifications of bringing an outsider into their culture. Some food for thought.

They took their time walking along the river. The comfortable silence between them was only sporadically interrupted by bursts of conversations. Cor learned that Nyx' favourite food was grilled hare with a pepper sauce, the name of which Cor couldn't hope to pronounce, that he loved heights and steep drops and had gone cliff diving as a teenager.

In exchange Cor told his fiancée about the first life steel sword he had possessed – which had belonged to his grandfather – and that he did wood carvings as a hobby – something Regis had insisted he should do and stuck with him.

It made Nyx laugh and Cor could not help but stare at twinkling blue eyes and the lopsided tilt of his mouth. The older could not help but be happy that this man could still emit such joy, despite all the blows he's had to suffer.

Cor shook his head, feeling warm all over, when Nyx tilted his head in curiosity.

They reached the Glaives training compound soon after. It was dark safe for one window still emitting light. Cor raised an eyebrow.

“That's probably the Captain,” Nyx stated next to him.

“Is it normal for him to be in this late?”

A shrug. “Sometimes? Now that I think about it, I rarely see the Captain outside of duty.”

With a tilt of his head, Cor looked at his fiancée who shrugged again. “Most of us live in the same neighbourhood. We've known each other since before coming to Insomnia.”

“Ah.”

“You still up to it?”

The answer was a deadpan stare. Nyx gave him a playful shove in the shoulder without letting go of his hand.

“Let's go then.”

Inside they went separate ways, Nyx to gather his kukris and Cor to turn hunt down a training room. On his way through the building Cor came past the offices. The exact moment he passed Titus' door, the man in question stepped into the hallway. Both men stopped short.

“Cor?”

“Titus.”

“Has something happened?”

Cor shook his head. “Regis would have called you. What are you doing here so late?”

“I could ask you the same. It's not often that you come to the Glaive's headquarters. Especially at this hour.”

“I need one of your training rooms,” Cor answered and watched in satisfaction as Titus' eyebrows climbed towards his hairline.

“Can't you take one at the Crownsguard's headquarters? Or at the Citadel?”

“Here was closer.”

Titus opened his mouth to answer only to close it again, clearly rolling that statement around in his head.

“Down the hall, turn left, second door on the right,” he said without any inflection whatsoever.

“Thank you.” Cor started to walk away, but stopped again after a few steps. “And Titus? Go home. You look like you could use a bed.”

The Captain gave him an impressively flat stare, but before he could answer a new set of footsteps travelled along the corridor. Within seconds Nyx came into view, a near unnoticeable spring in his step and his kukris strapped to his leg and the small of his back.

“Oh, good evening Captain,” he greeted.

Titus looked from Cor to Nyx and back again. The Marshall could nearly hear the cogs turning in the Captain's head. His eyes fell to Cor's necklace and then back to Nyx again.

“Sir Ulric, care to tell me what you are doing here?”

“Sir. I thought it was obvious, sir?”

This was the moment Titus figuratively threw his hands in the air. Cor had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. Nyx tilted his head like a curious cat.

“Carry on,” Titus ground out, turned on his heels and went back into his office.

Something uncharacteristically vulnerable flashed through Nyx' eyes as he stared at the closed door. Cor stepped close to him, worried.

“What is wrong?”

He couldn't think of anything that Titus had said that would shake his fiancée like that.

“I... He... That was...”

Nyx blinked and took a deep breath. Anger flashed and with a quiet snarl he spat at the spot where Titus had stood moments ago.

“Nyx?”

Was this another cultural thing? What exactly had Titus done?

“Okay. Okay. Let's go to the training room, I'll tell you there,” Nyx said, visibly trying to reign himself in.

They walked the rest of the way in tense silence, Nyx stewing in anger and Cor trying to figure out what was going on. He went over the conversation in his head again, but nothing jumped out to him. He frowned heavily.

The moment they closed the door to the large training room, he turned to Nyx.

“What is wrong?”

“That...” Nyx made a noise full of anger and frustration. “You don't just ignore it when an oirkar announces they're getting married! It's like ignoring the King when he's standing right next to you! I could declare a feud against Clan Drautos for this!”

There was more being said, but Cor couldn't understand one word of it as Nyx switched languages. He had no idea what to think about this. This had the very real possibility of forming a nasty rift in their military for a perceived slight. It seemed to be a large one, yes, but a slight nonetheless. Then again, there had been wars fought over slights before.

“Nyx,” he said, keeping out of arms reach for now. “Explain this to me. I want to understand.”

The other man carded a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he muttered. “I'll... okay. What do you want to know?”

“First off: What is an oi-kar?”

“Oirkar,” Nyx corrected, rolling the first r along his tongue. “It's a title. I think you know by now that we are organized in Clans? An orikar is the leader of a Clan. They manage for the Clan grounds, organize Clan businesses, preside over marriages and funerals, negotiate with other Clans and manage the finances. Things like that.”

Cor wondered if Nyx realized that he had just described what a lord was supposed to do, more or less. Probably not. He nodded to show that he understood.

“And you are an oirkar?”

Nyx made a face. “Yes. I'm not really a stickler to the social rules when it comes to that, but some things just aren't done.”

“Like ignoring when an oirkar gets engaged.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Nyx opened his mouth and closed it again, seeming to really think about his answer. Cor was content to wait.

“An orikar is the symbol of their Clan. They are its representative. When they marry it's a symbol of the Clan growing, of it prospering and doing well. If an oirkar is without a spouse from a certain age onward, it's seen as a bad omen. They don't have to have children and there doesn't _have_ to be a romantic relationship, but...” Nyx shrugged. “Pitioss, Drautos could have told me he didn't approve of our match and it still would have been better than ignoring it!”

Cor wasn't sure he understood, but now he could see part of the reasoning behind it. He had no doubt that there were details to it Nyx was leaving out, if on purpose or just because they were so obvious to him he forgot, he couldn't say.

“Please do not declare a feud on your Captain. I would not survive the paperwork,” he grouched in a dry deadpan.

His statement had the desired effect. Nyx snorted in derision and shook his head. The Galahkar still looked angry, but his anger had lost its edge. Cor saw his shoulders tremble and stepped closer. A hand hovered awkwardly in the air between them, not sure if physical touch was welcome at the moment.

Nyx took that decision out of his hands and let his forehead rest against Cor's shoulder. The difference in height between them was large enough for the position to be comfortable. The Marshall very carefully did not tense up at the contact, and, after a few seconds of hesitation, his arms settled around the other man's frame.

“I can't believe Drautos would do such a thing. He has to know that what he did was a surefire way to make me his enemy,” Nyx muttered into his shoulder after he seemed to have calmed down.

“Maybe he did not know.”

His fiancée gave a muffled snort. “He's half Galahkar. He's earned his Clan's name. He _has_ to know.”

Cor was not going to ask about this. There was a feeling crawling up his spine, telling him that something might be very, very wrong here. He did not give voice to his thoughts, however. Not without more evidence than a cultural aspect he did not understand.

“You still up for a fight?” he asked in an effort to change the subject.

Nyx gave another snort. “Yeah, sure. I could use the distraction.”

They stepped away from each other and Cor found himself missing the warmth of the other's closeness. It was a curious feeling.

After a few minutes of warm-up, they stood across from each other, weapons drawn. Cor felt something within him settle as he felt the weight of his trusty weapon in his hands. An old and dull stab of pain shot through his heart as he thought of his grandfather's sword that he had lost to Gilgamesh.

“Melee only?” Nyx asked.

Cor considered it for a second and nodded. “Warping allowed,” he added.

Nyx grinned, wide and full of teeth. “You shouldn't have said that.”

Then he moved.

Blue shards of crystallized magic rained to the ground as Nyx vanished only to reappear to his left, catching the thrown kukri while still in the air. Cor parried the incoming attack with ease and then their dance truly began.

Cor had the advantage of a longer reach but Nyx was fast, utilizing his ability to warp in a way he had ever only seen a Lucis Caelum doing. It was truly impressive.

The Marshall turned out of the way of another attack, using the momentum of the movement to perform a low swing as Nyx tried to get under his guard. He heard a bitten off curse as his opponent dove into a roll, slid one kukri along the floor and warped out of striking distance of his sword.

The reprieve didn't last longer than a heartbeat, then Nyx was closing in again. Sword rang against kukri with increasing speed as the clashed again and again.

Cor could feel a grin stretch his lips, one that matched Nyx' own. It was a heady feeling to fight like this again, to cut loose far more than he usually was able to during training fights. Nyx was good. Very good. He was fast and moved with a tightly coiled wildness that reminded him of a coeurl.

Clarus had once said that Cor was all barely contained violence and anger and every time he let a bit more of that show on his movements, people jerked back. He could only see appreciation in Nyx' gaze as he stalked towards him, sweat trickling down his temple and bloodlust in his gaze.

Neither of them wanted to lose ground in their constant back and forth, but slowly it became clear that Cor herded Nyx from the middle of the room into a corner. Both knew it. Instead of frustration, Cor could only see a primal joy reflected in his opponent's blue eyes.

Without warning, Nyx dropped to the ground, executing a sweeping kick to swipe Cor's legs from beneath him. The older man jumped, saw his chance and the next second the fight was over.

Both men froze, their fast breaths the only sound in the large training room. The tip of Cor's sword hovered millimetres from the back of Nyx' neck. The younger man was down on one knee, the blade in his left hand dangerously close to the back of Cor's knee.

As if they had heard a signal, they retreated their blades at the same time. Nyx took the offered hand and let himself be pulled up.

“Good fight,” Cor rumbled.

“Good fight,” Nyx agreed.

“You were holding back.” It wasn't a question, but the plain statement of a fact.

Nyx shrugged. “So were you.”

“Touché.”

For a few moments they just stood close to each other, content with the other person in their personal space.

“That you're fucking Shiva,” Nyx suddenly said.

Cor raised an inquiring eyebrow. “I what?”

“One of the rumours,” the younger man elaborated. “I have no idea who came up with it, but some of the Glaive are convinced that you managed to get Shiva into your bed and she made you immortal for it.”

“... I don't think I want to know the others.”

Nyx laughed at the perturbed expression Cor wore. “Another says you managed to get yourself cursed by a witch when you refused her due payment, and another one that you cut out your heart and buried it on your first battlefield.”

“Is there one that doesn't involve me sleeping with one of the Six or witches or self-mutilation?” Cor couldn't help but ask, curious despite himself.

“I... have no idea. I would need to ask Pelna. He knows every single one of the rumours. Between the two of us: I think he collects them and is responsible for at last two of them.”

“I would love to have a chat with Glaive Khara.”

Nyx blinked, surprised, and shrugged. “Just leave him alive, would you? He's the best communication operator we've got.”

“No promises,” Cor muttered.

Nyx laughed.

Outside the building the moon shone bright. No stars were visible through light pollution and the shimmer of the Wall, but the night was warm and bare of clouds. Together they stood at the end of the stairs and let the remaining sweat be dried by the breeze. A warm glow spread through Cor's chest as his eyes trailed from the sky towards Nyx who was looking down the street with a tight tilt to his mouth.

“I'm sorry,” he said and turned back to Cor. “For getting so angry.”

“I cannot say I understand, but I recognize that you had due reason to be,” Cor answered honestly.

A greatful smile flashed over Nyx' features. “Thank you. I had fun tonight, we should do this again.”

Cor tilted his head, a warm smile stretched his lips and crinkled along the corners of his eyes. It took him a second to realize that what he was feeling was joy. Slowly he reached out to lay a hand at the back of his fiancée's neck and lowered his head until their foreheads touched.

“Me too,” he rumbled, content in a way he hadn't been for a long while.

He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a fine dusting of red along Nyx' cheeks. The younger pressed closer for but a moment, noses brushing against each other and breath mingling, before he stepped back.

“I'll see you tomorrow?”

“If no emergency comes up, yes,” Cor nodded.

With a whispered “Good night” Nyx turned around and started to walk into what Cor thought was the direction of his home. He stood there, watching until the black clad figure of his fiancée vanished around a corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Drautos put his foot into his mouth. *cackles* Well, more or less. First strike towards him, and a pretty big one at that.  
I'm not really happy with the fight, but well...   
Anyway, anyone notice that those two dorks still haven't exchanged phone numbers? XD


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which not everything is fulff and rainbows.

As it turned out, Libertus and Crowe had invited themselves to breakfast at Pelna's regardless of the man's feeble protests. His wife, Tethys Najad, happily whipped up more food for all of them. Pelna's nieces and his son had already gone to school, so the adults sat alone at the kitchen table.

“Their courting really consists of only one meal?” Crowe asked, a fork full pineapple oatmeal floating halfway to her mouth. “I knew mainlanders were stupid, but it's getting ridiculous.”

“No wonder so many of them go through divorces, often times more than one,” commented Tethys from her seat between Pelna and Libertus.

Nyx just sat across from her and poked at his own breakfast. His retelling of his first date with Cor thoroughly derailed for now.

He really wanted to go out like that again. It had been fun, especially the fight, despite what Drautos had done. To Nyx, it honestly had been clear from the beginning that Cor would win. The man was a genius on the battlefield, but Nyx hadn't been able to resist the temptation of testing his mettle against such a powerful opponent. If he had approached that fight in a more Galahkari way instead of fighting like a Kingsglaive, he most likely would have lasted longer. Something to try out during the next fight.

“... Hora threw the guy out into the street in front of everybody.”

“Wow. Don't take this the wrong way, Libertus, but your cousin is scary,” Pelna laughed.

Nyx grinned. “Hora can put a raging behemoth to shame when she really gets going. What did the poor fool do?”

“Don't tell her that. She would take it as a compliment,” Libertus groaned. “Some Arra tried to gift her a green and yellow bead.”

“Ah.” Crowe nodded sagely. “If he couldn't figure out that the one he has a crush on hates being called feminine, he deserves what he got.”

“Points for trying, though,” Tethys said.

“He's an idiot. Who goes up to an Ostium girl with a bead that says 'you're a woman, I'll love and protect you and you'll be a great mother' before ever having asked her to a storytelling? Did he ask her out to a storytelling?” Crow argued.

Libertus shook his head.

“There you have it,” she said, satisfied.

“We've gotten off topic here. I like Hora, but it's not her potential suitors I want to hear about,” Pelna pointed out.

“The only reasonable thing in mainlander courting is that they're using food,” Libertus declared. “Maybe you can weasel some good recipes out of the General. Though I wouldn't hold my breath. Lucian food tasted like cardboard most of the time.”

“Of course you would say that,” Crowe said.

“Hey. What's that supposed to mean?”

“Where did he take you out to eat?” Tethys asked Nyx while his storm-siblings started to bicker like little children.

“_The Old Watchtower_. It's a place on the second level right next to the river. Serves mostly curry, which actually isn't bad. They have one variation with bamohn.”

The last sentence Nyx said with a quiet reverence. At once Libertus and Crowe stopped arguing.

“Did you ask where they get it from?” Libertus asked, hopeful.

Nyx shook his head. “I'll ask him next time I see him.”

“And when is that going to be?” Crowe wanted to know.

“I... have actually no idea,” Nyx admitted. “With what happened at the end of it, I forgot to ask.”

Which was really stupid, now that he thought about it. The next moment he remembered that he had also forgotten to ask Cor for his phone number, and groaned.

“What's wrong?” Pelna asked whilst he was in the process to refill their tea cups.

“Nothing. I'm just stupid.”

“I wouldn't say stupid exactly,” Crowe said. “Just...”

“A reckless idiot,” Libertus finished for her.

Nyx glared, though there was barely any heat behind it. The other two snickered.

“What happened at the end?” Pelna asked after a short silence.

“Well, Cor dared me to fight him,” he started only to be interrupted by Libertus.

“Of course he did. And you couldn't help yourself and said yes, didn't you?”

“I did. He won. But the fight isn't the point.”

“I get a bad feeling about this,” Pelna muttered barely loud enough to be heard when he saw Nyx' expression.

“It really was that bad.”

“What?” Libertus' temper flared up on behalf of his brother in all but blood. “Do I have to take the General out back? My uncle has a very nice ditch behind his bar we could dumb him into.”

Nyx couldn't help but laugh. There was a certain helplessness to it. Only Libertus would suggest something like that with all seriousness.

“Thanks for the offer, but no. It wasn't Cor. We wanted to use a training room in the Glaive headquarters since they were closer, and bumped into the Ca- Drautos. He just completely ignored the necklace I gave Cor.”

His voice petered out, not sure what else to say. The anger was back again. Searing hot and cold at the same time. A bitter taste spread along his tongue and the back of his throat, stealing away what had remained of the rest of his appetite.

“The Captain did _what_ now?” Libertus' voice was nothing more than a furious growl. “Did you declare enmity?”

Nyx only shook his head.

“Damn it, why didn't you? You were perfectly within your right to do it! You should have just cut the back of your hand and be done with it. Ignoring the fact that the oirkar of Clan Ulric is getting married, that the Last of a Clan is getting married... kohna, the latter is even worse.”

“It's good that you didn't do it, Nyx,” Pelna said, voice measured and quiet, as soon as Libertus took a breath.

“You on his side now, or what?” the large man growled.

He looked like he was about to stab someone, his face a furious sneer and fists clenched hard enough that his knuckles had turned white. Which was the moment Crowe kicked him in the shin.

“Ow. What the fuck, Crowe?”

“In case you haven't noticed, Drautos is still the Captain of the Kingsglaive. Which we're all members of – other than Tethys that is. We can't fight a feud against the Captain and a war against Niflheim at the same time. We'll lose. Pitioss, the frontline hasn't moved in our favour for months now! You want to fight a two front battle at all times, be my guest, but I won't do it. It's a surefire way to end up very dead very fast.”

Nyx could feel his mouth hanging open just a bit. Libertus didn't fare much better. He opened and closed his mouth like he was a fish on land. Tethys and Pelna were both staring, though they had nodded along to each point Crowe had made in her tirade.

It had been a long time since he had seen Crowe this incensed by something. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her whole body seemed to be shaking in an effort to keep calm.

“Alright, alright. Damn it, woman. You kick harder than a raging spiracorn.”

If looks could kill, Libertus would be very dead by now.

“It may not be a good idea to declare a feud against your Captain right now,” Tethys spoke up, “but that shouldn't keep you from keeping a very close eye on him.”

Everybody froze to look at her.

“What?”

“Are you suggesting we spy on him?” Nyx asked, partly incredulous, partly already convinced.

Tethys shrugged. “Pelna told me about some of the hiccups the Glaive has – no worries, nothing classified – and thinking about it, it gives me a weird feeling. Maybe I'm wrong, I don't work with Drautos or see him every day, but shouldn't he have split up that one squad by now? The one with the Najad and the Pontos on it. Everybody knows of our feud with the Pontos Clan, and keeping those two together is just asking for trouble.”

“I... never thought about that. How come I never thought about that?” Nyx asked and looked at his friends.

“You're not the only one,” muttered Crowe and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Maybe an outside perspective is what we need. Captain has gotten us out of a lot of tight spots over the years, I don't want to accuse him of anything. But we have to admit that he could have done something about that situation long ago,” Pelna said.

“Are yo saying Captain is doing this on purpose?” Libertus wanted to know.

“No! I'm saying that this situation very likely slipped through the cracks. You all know how much work the Captain has to do. We barely see him outside of our duties.”

Well, yesterday evening he had looked rather overworked. The thought left a bad taste in Nyx' mouth. He didn't want to excuse Drautos' bad behaviour. That was like ignoring a trap planted on the ground just because he was hunting a lightning shrew.

“Being overworked is no excuse,” Tethys stated firmly.

“It isn't,” Nyx agreed.

Silence descended upon the room. The tea in his cup had grown cold, but still Nyx sipped at it to distract himself. Tethys was right. Every Galahkar knew about the feud between two of their water based Clans – just like every Galahkar knew to at least comment on the impending marriage of an oirkar. Something niggled at his mind, a faint memory he couldn't grasp.

Abruptly Libertus smacked his palm against the tabletop. Nyx nearly spilled the remaining tea in his cup at the sudden sound.

“Alright, I've had enough of this moping around. Nyx has finally found someone to tie the knot with, and I sure as Pitioss ain't going to sit around thinking about the Captain of all people during that. So you-” he pointed at Nyx with a near aggressive jab of his finger- “are coming with me and show me your best Clan recipes. If food is what the mainlanders court with, you'll not lag behind. Not on my watch.”

“Ooohhh,” made Crowe. She leaned forward in her seat, eyes sparkling with interest. “Can I taste test?”

* * *

Nyx, Libertus and Crowe walked out of the only Galahkari butcher's shop in Insomnia. The market street was bustling with the morning crowd. On the next corner two musicians were performing a piece that was all fast paced drums. The beat made something within Nyx soar with the desire to dance a proper pildura again.

“Normally I would have hunted my own meat,” he grumbled and looked down at the bag he carried.

“Normally we don't live in a city where there's nothing to hunt,” Crowe shot back.

“Come on. I think we've got everything. Let's go back,” called Libertus from a few steps ahead of them, his arms full of bags containing vegetables, potatoes, spices and other assorted things that were absolutely vital in the man's opinion. “I would have us use the kitchen in my uncle's bar, but he has a a party over, so that's out. We'll use mine instead. Ahtrii know your kitchen is in a pitiable state, Nyx.”

Next to him Crowe rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. Nyx grinned.

“But I have you for that, big guy.”

“Great to know I'm being appreciated,” Libertus grumbled back without any heat behind it.

They arrived at their apartment complex with little incident – other than being congratulated to Nyx' impending marriage by seemingly every third person.

Most traditional Ulric recipes involved meat combined with spices, herbs, vegetables and other things they could hunt and gather in the jungle by themselves. Over the generations there had been additions to those recipes trough things bought from the other islands, and vegetarian variations had been invented. It was a shame that it wasn't hare season right now. Nyx made killer hare.

As soon as they arrived at Libertus' apartment they spread the groceries out on the dining table. A familiar frustration began to settle in Nyx' gut. This would not be a real Ulric dish. Too many things would have to be approximated or just tasted different coming from Lucian soil. Their carrots were orange with a real weird aftertaste for one. They were fucking strange is what they were, and no alternative existed to them here.

While he prepared the ingredients, Libertus turned on the radio and Crowe dug out three bottles of root beer from the fridge.

“Isn't it a bit early for that?” Libertus said when she pushed one of them into his hands.

“First off, it's our free day of the week, and secondly these are the non-alcoholic ones. I'm neither Sonitus nor Tredd,” Crowe shot back.

Calling for Rain played on the radio and Nyx pulled an earthen stewpot from one of the lower cabinets. It was a huge thing that took up half the stove. He started to prepare the ingredients and wondered how spicy he should make this. Normally he wouldn't even think about it, but a part of this would go to Cor. Why did Lucians have to have such wimpy taste buds? In the end he chose the milder chilli.

The dish Nyx wanted to make was relatively simple. It was a stew made with garula meat and root vegetables. Among them were supposed to be sweet potatoes and black carrots, but neither were an option so he needed to get a bit creative. Instead he used black salsify and parsley root. It wasn't ideal, but it would do.

Nyx added the root vegetables and poured some more water into the pot to the familiar backdrop of Libertus and Crowe bickering – this time about who could pull off the better invisibility spell.

“You know, if you want to eat some of this, you could help me clean up,” he interrupted them.

“Don't pull my tricks on me,” Libertus complained, but stood up from the couch anyway.

“I learned from the best, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Crowe snickered and started to wrap up the vegetable peels to throw them away. For a moment the only sounds in the apartment were the water running in the sink as Nyx cleaned the knives and cutting boards he had used, and Libertus dried and put them away. The newscaster spoke over the radio.

“_... are exited to announce their new exhibition about the islands of Galahd. Opening next month it will lift the veil of secrets and stories untold. The heart of the exhibit will be a collection of old traditional weaponry, jewellery, fashion and household utensils. Together we will explore how Galahdians lived and died, their wild and untamed culture. This was all made possible by generous donations made by the Cultural Diversity Organisation, the Foreign People Association and multiple private people. Next week we will have a special guest...”_

The newscaster kept talking but Nyx wasn't listening anymore. His mouth had gone dry and his mind numb. He exchanged a look with Libertus next to him who opened his mouth only to close it again. The cutting board he had been drying slipped from his hands and landed on the floor with a loud clatter. Nyx flinched.

“Shit,” cursed the larger man and bent down to pick it up.

Nyx looked at Crowe who sat at the table and stared at the radio as if she was willing it to burst into flames. She had gone pale. He hissed as he forced himself to unclench his fists. His fingernails had left deep indentations in his palms.

“So this is where all our stuff ended up,” Nyx couldn't help but say, tongue heavy and something wild and furious raging in his chest.

“Why the _fuck_ are they talking about us as if we're all already dead?” Crowe said, voice quiet and full of poison.

Libertus remained silent.

Nyx felt his stomach sink. His best friend had a temper and when he got angry, he got loud. It was like a spring storm, easy to spot and gone just as fast as it had come. But when Libertus got quiet, people got out of the way as fast as they could.

Of course Nyx did no such thing. He grabbed him by the shoulders, made him sit down at the table and put another bottle of beer in front of him. Nyx sat down next to him and together all three stewed in silence. A cheerful song began playing. With a quiet growl Crowe stood up and turned the radio off.

“I think I lost my appetite,” she said.

Libertus grunted.

“I'll just box it up. Want to come with me on the food delivery? We could hit the training room afterwards.”

“Not me. I think I'll head over to my uncle's bar instead.”

Nyx wasn't sure if a bar full of angry and potentially drunk Ostiums was a great idea, but he nodded. “What about you, Crowe?”

After a second of pondering she shook her head. “I'll make sure this guy doesn't burn down a building or two.”

“Isn't that your speciality?”

She shot him a heated glare. Nyx held up his hands in surrender and they fell silent again.

“Man, what a shit day,” mumbled Libertus into his beer bottle after a while.

Nyx couldn't help but agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles evily*  
I'm prepared to get screamed at.  
If anyone has a question about anything, don't be afraid to ask them in the comment section. We're all really nice people down there and I don't bite :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is tax fraud, relationship advice, drama and cuddles.

The morning was perfectly ordinary. In retrospect that should have been enough of a hint to know this day would end in disaster. Cor woke up, had the urge to prowl through his home like a caged sabertusk and eyed the uncooked meat in his fridge when he was looking for a piece of cured salmon to go with his toast.

His stomach rumbled.

With a quiet snarl at himself, Cor closed the door of his fridge harder than he needed to, and nibbled at his salmon toast. The coffee was scalding hot and exactly what he needed.

While his second cup cooled to a more drinkable temperature, Cor got ready for the day. He gave his more ostentatious dress uniform a distasteful glare and pulled it out of the closet. Regis and Clarus had insisted on him wearing it today since there would be a full court meeting this afternoon. It was ridiculous, but there would be reporters from newspapers and TV stations to watch them enter the throne room and pester them with questions beforehand. Not only that, but since this meeting was a public one it would be broadcast on live TV all over Insomnia.

He very deliberately did not look at the short ornate coat that was to be worn over one shoulder, held there by a set of golden aiguillette. Cor drew the line there. That thing was incredibly unpractical. Smoky grey fur lined the edges of it with the Crownsguard's insignia embroidered on the back in gold.

Instead he chose the much more practical frock coat. Which wasn't any less ostentatious, but still. Small victories. It had an asymmetrical cut with wide lapels that showed the stiff and ornate collar of the uniform beneath. The Crownsguard's insignia was embroidered on the back with golden thread, as were the parts of his rank insignia that could be seen on the cuffs. The only real nods to practicality were the relatively light material it was made of, and that it was shorter in the front than it was in the back, where it skimmed along the edges of his knee high boots.

Cor downed his second cup of coffee, grabbed the black gloves belonging to the uniform along with the beret, and stalked out the door. The faster this whole circus was over, the better.

Monica greeted him at his office with a perfectly straight face, but Cor knew her long enough to know she was hiding a grin beneath her professional countenance. His frown deepened as he looked at her. She just handed over the latest papers he needed to sign and went back to her own work after a respectful salute. Now he knew she was messing with him.

In his office, he shed the coat along with the beret and the gloves, and hung them carefully on the coat rack in the corner. Cor didn't want to suffer Regis' disappointed stare should his uniform get rumpled. For a long moment he stared at the empty sword rack situated on the heavy shelf behind his desk, before he shook his head and got to work.

Nothing about it was overly exciting. Mostly they were reviews for him to go over, so that he could give his official report at court in the afternoon. But a few weren't. Cor couldn't help the small smile as he read Monica's handwritten missive that the coeurl pelts he had given to a taxidermist, to get them properly treated, were ready for pickup.

The next one worried him. It was a report from Dustin Ackers. Yet again the man had taken the initiative before Cor himself had decided on what to do, and had started to dig. Before him laid the financial reports of the Hunters and Wildlife Protection Association and the Ministry of Energy and Environment. Dustin had helpfully highlighted the relevant parts for him, since Cor himself didn't really have a mind for numbers. What he saw, first made his eyebrows rise before they dipped down again into a fierce frown. 

The chair nearly toppled over as Cor forcefully stood up. He didn't really care, snatched up the file Dustin had compiled, and stormed out of his office. 

People practically hurled themselves out of the way when they saw him coming, a thunderous frown on his face and dressed in his proper black and gold uniform. He cut a very impressive figure – not that he cared about it at the moment. The way to Regis' private office did not take too long, when he took the stairs instead of the elevator during this busy time of the day. 

He was not even winded by the time he knocked at the heavy wooden door.

“Come in,” came the call.

Cor barely remembered the courtesy to wait for it before he marched into the room.

The King's private office was a large room. On the floor lay a heavy carpet showing a strict geometric pattern, and the wooden panelling of the walls was mostly hidden behind heavy bookshelves. To his right there was just enough space for a comfy sofa, where Noctis had used to spend most of his time after their rather violent return from Tenebrae. Opposite of the door stood a large desk made out of dark wood with two chairs in front of it and a large office chair behind it. There, Regis sat, pen poised over a paper, a laptop at his elbow. The portrait of the Conqueror stared down at them and made Cor's hackles rise. He ignored it.

“Cor? How can I help you? Did something happen?”

Worry was definitely there, though the King couldn't quite hide his pleased smile from the Marshal, when he saw the younger man in his dress uniform. Cor decided to be mature about it and scowled, but didn't say anything.

“Dustin found something,” he said and held out the folder he had brought with him. 

It was a nondescript thing, not very large, and put together with a care only Dustin managed. 

Regis gave a quiet hum and took the folder. Cor leant against the edge of the large desk, arms crossed, and waited. He had known Regis for most of his life now, and could tell the moment the older man realized what exactly he was looking at. A tiny frown flittered across his face before his expression smoothed out into the calm mask of the King of Lucis. 

“Is this amount correct?”

Cor pushed himself into a parade rest. “Dustin would not have given me this, if he hadn't had a way to verify it.”

“This is worrying. Very worrying, indeed. The Association and the Ministry have pooled money in the past. Mostly to donate it to the Forlane Wildlife Sanctuary, the Oceanic Research Facility or the Marine Life Sanctuary to name a few. I imagine this is why no one noticed this for quite some time. Ser Ackers would not have looked for this, if you hadn't put word out, Cor. What tipped you off?”

“The way Lord Hypocris acted during the talk I had with him and Lords Caulis and Sagitta a few days ago.”

“Ah yes. It seems I have severely underestimated Lord Hypocris. What can you tell me about him?”

“Majesty?”

Regis shot him an unimpressed stare. “I would be very surprised, if you hadn't already done some research, my friend.”

Well, Regis wasn't wrong. Cor gave a quiet huff. “Florus Hypocris, minor noble of Insomnia. Born 699 ME. Has a wife, Migrae Hypocris, and a son, Frutrice Hypocris. No other known close relatives. His family owned land in southern Leide before mismanagement made most people move away. A daemon nest emerging there and the growing war did the rest. In 687 ME the Hypocris family officially moved into Insomnia full time.”

Cor paused but when he saw the way his King looked at him, huffed again and continued.

“Lord Hypocris started his political career with his introduction into the Insomnian court at age sixteen, took over as Lord of his family at age 24 after his father, mother and younger brother died in a car accident. Worked first under the late Lord Domar in the Ministry of Economics as a secretary in the department for tax audits, before he was transferred to the Ministry of Energy and Environment as an aide for Lord Caulis – who is close friends with Lord Sagitta – and left to found the Hunters and Wildlife Protection Association in 742 ME, of which he has been the president ever since. Monica is currently looking into his academic career.”

“This is a good start. But Cor, keep your investigation as discreet as possible. This does not look like a minor case of tax embezzlement, I want every person involved with this found and brought into custody.” Regis gave the folder one last cursory look before he closed it. “You may put Ser Ackers at the head of the investigation, if you wish.”

“He is very discreet, if it is required,” Cor nodded.

Regis nodded, leaned forward in his chair and then smiled in a way that made Cor immediately stiffen.

“I heard that you went out on a date with Sir Ulric yesterday, my friend.”

Cor scowled. “Regis.”

The older man did not pout, but it was a close thing. 

“Now now, Cor. I have been waiting for years for this. I could also call for Clarus, if you wish; he must be as eager to hear about this as I am, I'm sure.”

This time Cor shot his infuriating friend and King a glare before he rolled his eyes and relaxed his stance to a more causal one. He did  _ not _ need a nagging Clarus in this room, giving him unhelpful lectures on what was 'romantic' and what was not. Regis' whole being radiated how pleased he was by this development. 

“And?” prodded Regis after a few seconds of silence.

“Fine. It went fine,” Cor pressed out, exasperated.

“Judging from the fact that you are not occupying the training salles, I would infer it went more than just fine.”

A sigh made it up Cor's throat, but kept it in. This was his best friend who knew all of his quirks and other things, after all. 

“We went out for a meal, took a walk and had a fight.”

“A fight?” Regis' expression grew worried. “I thought you said it went well.”

“It did.”

His King stared at him for a few seconds before realization set in. 

“Cor,” he said like a patient parent, “please don't make me worry like that.”

“You and Clarus told me more than once that on a date, you should do something that is fun for both parties involved.”

“We did. But Cor, for a moment I thought you and Sir Ulric had had a disagreement.”

“I would have told you, if that had been the case.”

Regis shot him an unimpressed look. The same he usually received when he had done something either Regis or Clarus thought was stupid an unnecessary. He ignored it.

Instead his thoughts drifted back to the talk he and Nyx had had over dinner. There had been so much information. And that one request he wasn't sure how to answer. Something must have shown on his face, because Regis grew concerned again.

“Is something the matter?”

Cor started to shake his head, but then he stopped, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Probably.”

“What is it?”

He considered his answer. Politics had never been where his talents were, even after years at court. And this was a political problem. Who was better to ask for advice for this other than the King of Lucis himself? Cor nodded to himself. Now, just how to explain it? Regis just looked at him, waiting patiently.

“Galahkari culture is very different from ours,” Cor started, stating the obvious. But it helped him to start talking about this. “What Nyx and I have now – a Lucian has never had the chance to be so involved in their culture as I have the potential to be. There are certain expectations that are expected to being met, I am not quite sure what to do with.”

“I would never have thought I would see the day when Cor Leonis is worried about politics,” Regis smiled. “The most important thing however, is this question: Do you feel like you are being pressured into accepting these expectations?”

The answer came without hesitation: “No.”

“That is good. May I ask what exactly these expectations are?”

“A double citizenship.”

To his credit, Regis took the statement in stride.

“A double citizenship? I imagine this will not go the way it usually does.”

Cor shook his head. A contemplative silence settled between them.

“I cannot deny that someone I trust having citizenship in Galahd, would be a great boon in some ways and bad in others. The nobles won't be very happy about this either way. There will be voices against you, the moment they learn that the offer was even made in the first place. The only advice I can give you as a friend is that you should accept or decline this offer only for your own reasons and no one else's.”

“The nobles have been trying to undermine my position from the beginning, since I am not a noble myself. I can handle them. It's not me I am worried about, Regis.”

“Ah. Sir Ulric is in a more vulnerable position than you are when it comes to them. Have you voiced your concerns to him? With Aulea it was always a good idea to do so.”

Aulea had been a force to reckon with. Having come from a minor noble family, her influence had at first mainly come from her reputation as Regis' childhood friend. But she had still been of noble blood, which had given her a certain amount of protection at court. As well as Regis himself. But Cor was no Crown Prince, he was the Marshal of the Lucian army. There was no noble or royal blood to shield himself or Nyx. Maybe he should ask Monica about this? Then again, she was even more uninterested in romantic relationships than he was.

A sudden thought struck him. It was stupid and reckless and Nyx would probably murder him or it, but...

“During the dinner, Nyx said something to me,” he mused, still not sure if he should propose this idea. “About the Clans, and how they have their own hierarchy.”

Regis frowned in contemplation. “Are you insinuating that they have their own nobility? That would certainly put a new spin on things, and may actually help with their situation. If there are nobles then there are protocols that need to be observed, and rights that have been violated for years. Compensation would be due...”

Cor had never seen Regis this happy at the prospect of the crown loosing money. Then again, this had been a loosing fight for years now. Still, there was a voice in his mind whispering that this was really not such a bright idea. 

“And Sir Ulric has good standing in his society?”

The question startled Cor out of his thoughts. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the King in consideration. The older man held his hands up in a placating way.

“It is not my intention to insult.”

“I know,” Cor said after a moment. “Nyx is a member of Clan Ulric, which, apparently, is in a very high standing, from what I understand. I cannot tell you what position Nyx has within the Clan, though it is high enough that no one will dare to take direct action against his engagement to me.”

_ And he could somehow get his hands on precious stones _ , he thought.

“Hmm. We have not enough information to decide on a definitive course of action yet. Though I will look into the possibility of granting them proper sanctuary under the Nobles Rights Act,” Regis mused.

“I will gather what information I can,” Cor said, and with that their talk was over for now.

He was just about to take his leave when someone knocked at the door and Clarus stepped in at Regis' call. He looked worried, but not enough for it to be something life threatening. The court vestment made his already large frame seem even larger.

“Your Majesty, Marshal,” he greeted and frowned at the way Cor leaned against Regis' desk again.

That frown held until the door was closed behind him, and the guards couldn't see now hear them anymore. Then he gave them a deadpan look and relaxed from his own salute.

“Clarus, what happened?” Regis asked, already reaching for his cane.

“There was a... incident at the office of Lord Ignavus.” He sent an apprehensive look in Cor's direction. “Nyx Ulric has been taken into custody.”

“What?” the Marshal demanded in a dangerously quiet voice.

The Shield made a face and moved into Cor's way as he made toward the door.

“Out of my way, Clarus,” he growled in the same tone of voice.

He had no patience for political manoeuvring at this instant. All he cared about was to get to Nyx before one of the guards did something stupid. That would earn them his sword to their gut.

“Marshal Leonis,” Regis called, his voice strict and brooking no argument. “Calm down and listen. Let us hear what Clarus has to say. Running into this situation without information may be more detrimental to Sir Ulric than waiting for a few more moments.”

Cor felt his jaw muscles twitch as his teeth ground against each other. His whole body was wound tight. Tension was thick in the air as he whirled back around to face his King who was standing now, both hands braced against the surface of the desk.

“Make it quick,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Regis' shoulders slumped the tiniest bit. Cor snarled and started to pace along the heavy bookshelves at the left side of the office like a caged animal. 

“Around fifteen minutes ago a message reached me that Lord Ignavus had called for the Citadel Guard. They apparently found Nyx Ulric of the Kingsglaive there, threatening bodily harm against the Lord. He was taken into custody and is currently held in one of the detainment cells of the Citadel Guard. I was notified since neither you, Cor, nor Captain Drautos could be reached, and thought it best to inform His Majesty,” Clarus reported in a clipped voice, his eyes never leaving Cor.

“Has someone questioned the involved parties yet?” the King wanted to know.

“Lord Ignavus' statement is currently being taken. As of now, Sir Ulric has refused to talk to anyone.”

“I will talk to him.”

“Cor...” Regis started.

The Marshal whirled around with a growl. “No. He is  _ mine _ . And no one can just keep him locked up for something that might be nothing!”

For a heartbeat no one moved. Then Regis sighed and grabbed his cane. “Let us get to the bottom of this, then.”

Without another word Cor pushed past Clarus and stormed out the door. He could care less for propriety right now. His thoughts fell into a seething pit of anger, and only resurfaced when he found himself snarling at the poor Citadel Guard that tried to unlock the door towards the detainment cells, with trembling hands. Not that he felt even an ounce of sympathy for the young man who looked barely past his teens. 

Finally, the door swung open and Cor swept into the corridor behind it. The cells were situated to both sides of it, with one guard sitting to the left behind a small desk. Some kind of comedy show was playing over the radio. The guard jumped out of his chair and scrambled into a salute as soon as he saw the Marshal.

“Lord Marshal, ser!” he yelped. 

“Nyx Ulric,” Cor growled. “ _ Now _ .”

The guard paled so fast it was a wonder he did not keel over, but to his credit, he hurried towards the only locked door in the corridor. It was the second one on the right. The door swung open, and not a moment later Cor was inside the tiny cell, the snarling face of Nyx right in front o him.

It looked like the younger man had paced the length of his involuntary dwelling since he had been locked in there. The air smelled heavily of ozone and barely restrained magic. Surprise flashed over his face and pushed the anger away, at least for now.

“Cor?”

His voice was rough with an undertone that reminded Cor of his own voice when his temper was a hair's breadth away from snapping. 

“Nyx. What happened?” The demand came out harsher than he wanted to, but Nyx didn't seem to notice. 

Instead he scraped his hands over his face in agitation and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Don't you already know?”

“I wouldn't ask, if I did.”

They stared at each other.

“Why don't you ask our  _ dear _ Lord Minister?”

“I'm asking you.”

Voices rose from the end of the corridor and made both men look up. Not a moment later the King and his Shield arrived. The cell was getting cramped even though the door remained open. Cor sketched a short bow, but Nyx just stood there, head held high and blue eyes blazing. At that moment, Cor could see why Clan Ulric was associated with coeurls.

“Sir Ulric,” Regis greeted, ignoring the breach of protocol. “I heard there was quite the situation.”

Nyx had the gall to snort in derision. A scandalized look crossed Clarus' face, but before the large man could say anything, Cor shot him a warning look. Something was very off here, and he would not let Clarus make it worse by putting his foot into his mouth.

“You can say that again, Majesty,” the Glaive said, his grin all teeth and sharp edges.

It made Cor's hairs stand on end, as some deep instinct warned him of a dangerous predator close by. Regis' fingers twitched against his cane as he, too, must have perceived the danger. However, his face held it's placating smile. 

“What happened?” Cor asked again. “You are not a man who loses his temper lightly.”

“Then ask the  _ honoured _ Lord. Ask him about the Foreign People Association. Ask him about his  _ generous _ donations. Ask him about the  _ new discoveries in cultural understanding _ .”

The last words were said with so much rage and bitterness, they sent Cor reeling. Clarus looked like someone had slapped him with a fish and Regis' neutral countenance broke to show open astonishment. For a moment no one spoke. Then a laugh startles all of them. It was a broken laugh. It took Nyx a while to calm down.

“You don't know,” he said, gasping for breath. “You really don't know. Do you even know what goes on within the walls of your own city?”

“Sir Ulric!” Clarus erupted.

Regis lifted his hand to stop Clarus from speaking further.

“Enlighten me, then.”

The following silence lasted for so long, Cor feared Nyx would not answer. A fierce worry ate away at his insides. What by Bahamut's bladed wings had happened? It could not have been a small thing. But since it involved one of the Lords, a Minister of the government no less, shouldn't they have seen the trouble brewing? His thoughts flashed to the file Dustin had compiled, and a bitter taste spread over his tongue and the back of his throat. They were more blind to the goings ons of the Insomnian nobility than he had thought they were. 

“The Royal Museum of Lucian History and Culture,” Nyx spoke at last. “They're planning a new exhibit. Topic: Life on the 'mysterious' islands of Galahd, to explore the wild and untamed culture. And it was all planned by yours truly, Lord Ignavus and the Lord Curator.”

Oh.

Cor stared at his fiancée as he stood there, hands balled into fists and whole body shaking with barely noticeable tremors. He had never wanted to hug someone more in his life, to drape his full weight all over him until he stopped shaking. It was a new experience, Cor had no idea what to do with. So he ignored it.

“How did you come across this information?” Clarus demanded more than asked.

Another sharp grin, with a decidedly mocking edge this time. “Like everybody else got it: over the radio.”

This was just getting worse and worse. To everyone who knew him well, the King looked exactly as unhappy about what he had just heard as Cor was. Which was to say, very. 

“It seems I have a few enquiries to make,” the King said in a calm voice that barely hid the anger lurking beneath. “Sir Ulric, you are free to go. Please hold yourself ready for an inquiry tomorrow morning at 7am sharp.”

With that the King left the cell, Clarus half a step behind him.

As soon as they had left, Nyx slumped against the wall, suddenly looking drained and exhausted. At once Cor was next to him, not quite daring to touch him. He knew from experience, that if he was this angry and someone tried to touch him, he was more likely to try to gut the person than anything else. For a split second the Glaive looked like he might cry. 

Cor racked his brain for something comforting to say. Instead what came out was: “Let's get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Nyx mumbled after a moment. 

He did not look furious anymore. Just tired down to his bones. Had he slept enough? There were no dark rings under his eyes. 

“Come,” Cor coaxed, and led his fiancée back to his office on some of the less often used paths. 

He studiously ignored the looks from Monica and Dustin as he passed them, and pushed Nyx into the office. As soon as the door was closed, the younger man threw himself on the largely unused couch, and dragged Cor with him. He stiffened on reflex, but relaxed right after, when his new position registered. 

His back was against the armrest, legs spread out, and his arms around a muscular body. Nyx was curled against him, obviously seeking some form of comfort. This was... nice, and Nyx obviously needed it. So he held still, not caring if his dress uniform gained wrinkles, and tightened his hold on the younger man. 

They did not move for the longest time, nor did they talk. Another body, pressed against his own like that, was a new experience for him, one he would have relished in a lot more, if it weren't for the circumstances. Still Cor took the chance, buried his nose within Nyx' hair and breathed in his scent. It was a warm and spicy smell, coupled with something that reminded Cor of clean air after a rain shower. 

After a quiet eternity, Nyx started to stir.

“You've got a calming heartbeat.”

Cor's eyebrows rose. “Thank you?”

Nyx snorted but didn't elaborate. They fell silent again.

“Do you know?” Nyx whispered after a while.

Cor made an inquiring sound. 

“What happened to us when we first came to Insomnia.”

A thoughtful frown settled on Cor's face, as he tried to remember what he knew about the last great refugee wave, of which the Galahkari had made the largest part. He had not been within the city for most of it. The Niflheimr forces had been on the move, and he had rallied the Crownsguard into a counter offensive to halt their progress. They had managed to keep the enemy from advancing further than Mount Ravatogh, but even that had been a bitter pill to swallow.

“I was out of the city for most of the year.”

He felt Nyx shift in his hold. 

“You're the reason the Niffs didn't follow us past Ravatogh.”

There was a quiet awe in Nyx' voice that was mildly unsettling to Cor. He nodded.

“Thank you. Because of you, we didn't loose many more people.”

A non-committal sound rumbled through Cor's chest, and they lapsed into silence again. He wondered if he should ask about what had happened when Nyx had first come to Insomnia. Before he could come to a decision however, the door to his office crashed open and a large man practically fell into the room. 

Nyx' only reaction was to lift his head and, once he saw who it was, flop back into his previous position. Which was the only reason Cor did not jump to his feet and welcome the newcomer with the pointy end of his sword. 

Libertus Ostium came to a stop, saw them both sprawled on the couch and blinked. Relief and satisfaction were clear on his face as his whole posture deflated. A string of foreign words that sounded like curses, tumbled from his mouth. 

Nyx gave an amused snort. The gust of air tickled Cor's neck and made him shiver slightly. 

“Ahtrii, Nyx!” Ostium practically yelled. His voice was a mix of exasperation, relief and anger. “I came here, thinking I'd have to bust you out of a prison cell, and here you are. Cuddling of all things!”

“Cor got me out.”

“Cor got you out,” the large man parroted. “How nice of him. The next time this happens, you call me, so I won't get a heart attack. I was at the bar when I heard about it. Uncle was ready to call for the allied Clans and stage an intervention.”

Nyx winced. “Sorry.”

It was a novel experience for Cor to be talked over like that. He made a bemused sound at the back of his throat as he wondered why he wasn't surprised when Ostium said 'the next time this happens', as if he was expecting it to happen again.

“Sorry, he says. If I could, I would hit you upside the head right now. But I think your other half would have to say something about that.”

The Marshal raised an eyebrow at that and stared at Ostium. The man stared right back.

“Where's Crowe?” Nyx asked.

“Back at the bar. She's making sure uncle keeps his feet under the table.”

“Ah.”

Cor got the feeling they had narrowly avoided civil unrest. Just how much influence did his fiancée have in his culture? It must be quite considerable.

“But Murus hates her.”

“Yeah, but if push came to shove, I would have been the best option to get you out.”

This was not a conversation he wanted to listen to. Thankfully the large man turned towards Cor's desk and inspected something. Cor was about to demand him to stop, when he stepped back in front of them with a container in his hands. 

“Neither of you have eaten.” It wasn't a question. “Here. It's past lunch time already.”

With a sound that vaguely sounded like a protest, Nyx accepted the container and sat up. At once Cor missed the warmth of the other's body pressed against him. 

“But it's for Cor. And probably cold by now.”

“I don't care. Eat.”

Only once the container was opened and revealed some kind of amazing smelling stew, did Cor notice how hungry he was.

“You better like it, Leonis. Nyx cooked that by himself,” Ostium declared.

“Libertus,” Nyx hissed, embarrassed.

Now Cor knew he was missing something, though he wasn't very interested in it at the moment. He pulled two forks out of his armiger, passed one to a startled Nyx and started eating. The food was cold, true, and too spicy for his own taste, but still, it was wonderful.

“It's very good,” he said after the first bite.

Both Galahkari looked inordinately pleased at that.

“Why'd you get arrested anyway?” Ostium asked after a while and at once Nyx' good mood vanished.

“I may have told Minister Ignavus what I thought about him, since I was already in the building anyway. Wasn't the brightest idea.”

Ostium pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “That was such a stupid idea. Nyx, don't do that. Not without backup.”

“Yes, you big worryguts.”

That earned Nyx such an unimpressed look, it rivalled those Clarus would give Regis on occasion. Despite himself, Cor was impressed.

“But Nyx?”

“Hmm?”

“We'll figure something out.”

“Yeah.”

After that there was only silence for a while, where Cor and Nyx ate, and Ostium commandeered one of the chairs in the room. The large man watched them intently, as they sat shoulder to shoulder. Cor refused to feel uncomfortable at that. 

“You know, Leonis,” Ostium said after they set their forks down, “you're pretty alright. For a mainlander.”

“You're pretty alright yourself, Ostium. For a barbarian heathen,” Cor shot back, voice flat.

The large man grinned. It was not a nice grin, necessarily. “Call me Libertus.”

“Cor.”

Nyx bumped their shoulders together and grinned. Obviously pleased that his friend and his fiancée weren't at each other's throats. Cor couldn't quite help the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Libertus grumbled something, though his words were without heat.

The calmed atmosphere was shattered by the ringing of an alarm. 

Was it already this late? Yes, it was. The court meeting would start in half an hour.

“Sorry to throw you out,” he apologized. 

Both Galahkari waved the apology away.

“We get it. The King is calling and all that,” Libertus said.

Cor frowned but didn't say anything. Nyx rolled his eyes. They stood up, and with a nod and a hard pat on Cor's back, Libertus was out of the door.

“You have a very... loyal friend.”

“He's my brother in all but blood, truly. We have each other's backs. Like you and the King and the Lord Shield.” Blue eyes drifted over his now rumpled dress uniform. “That looks very fetching on you. Sorry I ruined it.”

The Marshal shook his head. “You're more important than a uniform.”

“Good to know I'm appreciated,” Nyx joked before he grew serious again. “But seriously. Thank you for... you know.”

“Any time.”

Slight hesitation, then he gently tugged at the braid that held the same beads as his necklace. Nyx tried for a smile, but his muscles seemed to fight him every step of the way. Cor leaned down and pressed his forehead against Nyx' temple in an approximation of their usual greeting. Right now it did not feel like the right thing to do.

“Stay safe,” he said, voice rough.

“You too,” the younger mumbled, and was out the door a moment later, leaving Cor alone to gather his bearings and get ready for the sharks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands*   
*cackles*  
The start isn't the best, but by the halfway point I got myself so excited, I had to take a break from writing XD  
The politics at the start gave me a headache. Please don't look too closely at it, I pulled it all out of my ass.   
Hope you all found the chapter as exciting as I did!
> 
> Stay safe and as healthy as you can


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx gets dragged into a bar by Libertus. There they watch a TV broadcast that will change quite a few things going forward.

The _Rose's Thorn_ was situated on the main street of Little Galahd. The bar took up the whole ground level of an old, ugly concrete building. The fassade had been painted by the owner, Murus Ostium, and the Clan a few years ago, but now grey streaks of dirt and exhaust fumes marred the once vibrant colours. The sign above the door showed a snake wound around rose's stem. Its freshly repainted colours shone in vibrant greens and whites and reds.

Just outside the front door, a large group of people had amassed and tried to peer inside. Libertus dragged Nyx through the crowd and into the bar that was occupied down to the last table. Quite a few people stood close to the walls with drinks in their hands. The conversations of the patrons were loud enough that Nyx would have to raise his voice, should he want to make himself understood to Libertus.

But the atmosphere was not as jovial as it first appeared. People's faces were grim, their smiles too harsh and too sarcastic. Those who saw them nodded in their direction in greeting, relief flickering on most of their faces, but this time there were no bellows, no raised glasses.

Nyx felt a strange kind of emptiness at it all. He had already burned through his rage and indignation, at least most of it. Cuddles with Cor had helped a great deal with this. There was just something about being close to this man that made him calm down. Otherwise he would probably plan a murder right about now.

“Libs! Nyx! Over here!”

An arm rose over the masses and waved. Libertus hollered a greeting back and changed curse.

Crowe sat at a table wedged between the bar proper and the wall. It was barely enough space for the table that looked like a tall barrel and the three stools around it, not to mention three people. But this little corner was out of the way, and for this fact, quieter than the rest of the packed bar. Nyx sat down to his storm-sister's left so he could see the large TV mounted on one wall, if he leaned slightly to the side. Already the Crown Channel was tuned in, though it was still on mute.

“I'm going to get us some drinks,” Libertus announced and vanished back into the crowd.

Crowe must have seen something on Nyx' face, because as soon as she turned to him, hands clasped around her tankard of root beer, her smile vanished.

“What happened to you?” she asked, a gentle undertone to her rough voice. “Pretty much all of Little Galahd was ready to march on the Citadel when we heard the news that you had gotten arrested.”

“I thought it was only Murus,” Nyx deflected.

One raised eyebrow was all it took to convey how unimpressed Crowe was. Nyx raked a hand through his hair. He felt tired. All he wanted right now was to hear his mother work in the smithy and his sister puttering in the kitchen trying to make tea, while Nyx himself sewed a fur collar on a tunic while humming a song. Like it had happened so often shortly before he had moved into the Ulric Clan house.

“Hey Nyx. You sure you're alright?”

The question startled him out of the memory.

“Yeah,” he muttered on autopilot before shaking his head. “It's just not exactly easy, you know?”

“Being engaged to a mainlander? Or getting your culture slowly wiped out and having to watch while it happens?”

There was a bitterness in Crowe's voice that made Nyx wince. But still he couldn't help but scowl at her. “You know full well I couldn't have said no to Cor.” A growl had snook into his voice.

Crowe made a face. The one she always did when she wanted to apologize but couldn't make herself say the words.

“I thought it would be more difficult,” Nyx said. “But Cor is actually trying. Really trying. It was him who got me out of custody. He was like a shadowcat ready to tear it's prey apart.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Crowe said with a small smile and a roll of her eyes. “It's actually good to hear you gushing about someone, you know?”

“I'm not gushing!”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Whatever it is that you said you didn't do, you totally did it,” Libertus said as he came back.

The large man carried two tankards of beer with one hand and a snack bowl full of nuts and seeds in the other.

Nyx just huffed and took his beer. “I'm not constantly gushing over Cor.”

Libertus and Crowe shared a look and grinned. Nyx chose to ignore them both and concentrated on the crowd in the room instead. There was a tenseness in the air that usually didn't belong here.

Two tables down from his own, a group of Furia sat. Their red hair stood out amongst the usual dark brown and black. Only two of them were in the Kingsglaive, and out of the other five Nyx only recognized two others who were woodcarvers. One of the unknowns of the group was playing around with a lighter in his hands while he listened with a closed off face to what the woman next to him had to say. It gave Nyx a bad feeling.

Most of the other patrons within the bar were of the Ostium Clan, though he could see some Khara at a table close to the entrance, and Luche sat at the bar with his Clan Head and two other Lazarus. Ladone Najad, an old friend of his father's, nodded at him before she sat down at the Khara table, and Sonitus Bellum sat amongst some of his own Clan members in another corner of the room. Axis Arra nodded towards him as he set down tankards of beer and cups of fumir down at the table closest to Nyx'.

“Nyx,” the Arra greeted as he came over. “Libertus, Crowe.”

“Hiya, Axis,” Crowe replied while Nyx just nodded and Libertus gave Axis a clap on the back.

“People have been giving Oirkar Arra the petition paperwork for the exhibition. If you want to add yours, the oirkar asks that you do so within the next day,” Axis said in his typically mild mannered voice, though there was an undertone of malcontent and barely restrained anger.

“Don't people know by now that filling out those forms won't do anything?” Libertus demanded with a raised eyebrow.

Axis shrugged. “What else can we do? I'm open for any ideas you might have.”

Crowe opened her mouth.

“Helping Tredd burn down the museum doesn't count,” Axis said and Crowe's mouth clicked shut with an indignant huff.

“Why is everybody thinking of arson these days?” Libertus mused out loud.

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because everything else isn't helping,” Crowe shot back.

“If the museum were to burn down right now, every Galahkar would be a prime suspect and that wouldn't make anything better. It would make everything so much worse,” Axis pointed out.

That was certainly true. Legally speaking, they didn't have many options and over the years it had become clear that even those few options they had, weren't really good for anything. Nothing would change the fact that they were second rate citizens in the eyes of the rest of Insomnia.

“What about you, Nyx? You've been really quiet,” Libertus asked.

“I would be quiet, too, if I just got thrown in a cell for no reason,” Crowe said. Her glare could have cut glass.

“I didn't get thrown into a cell over nothing,” Nyx protested, but it sounded weak, even to him.

“Yeah, right,” muttered Libertus.

“Why have you been taken into custody, Nyx?” Axis asked.

It became clear to Nyx that this was the true reason why the other man had come over to their table in the first place. If he told him, the whole bar would know within minutes, nothing to say about the rest of Little Galahd. At this point Nyx didn't really care anymore. Against his very nature, he had tried so hard to keep his head down, had tried to convince others to do the same, so they as a people wouldn't get any more problems. It hadn't turned out all that well at all.

The situation they were in now was in large part his own fault because he had _known_ people would listen to him. He was an Ulric, and Ulrics protect. And Nyx just hadn't seen another way to keep his people alive. But now he asked himself, if it had been worth it. If slowly loosing their identity as a people wasn't just the same as a slow and agonizing death that crawled up your spine bit by tiny bit.

“Because I told that tiny little Lord Ignavus what I think of his bright idea to show off stolen goods,” growled Nyx.

His knuckles turned white with the force with which he gripped his tankard as he said that. The people around the table went silent. The smell of ozone and roiling magic wafted through the air. Nyx could see Crowe shudder. She had always been the most sensitive out of the three of them when it came to magic.

Axis hummed, a spark of something like gratification in his eyes. “So I guess the bets are off then.”

Nyx shot him a sharp smile. It looked more like a coeurl's snarl.

“Tomorrow. After I come back from the enquiry with the King.”

The answering grin Axis gave him was very uncharacteristic for the mild tempered man. It promised pain and blood spilled for an old and festering hurt.

“Good enough,” Axis said, and with a nod that bordered on respectful, he returned to his own seat.

At once his Clan's people started to bombard him with questions. Over the noise in the bar Nyx couldn't understand a word of it, but with the looks they cast in his and his friends' direction, he had a pretty good guess on what they were talking about.

Libertus cast him a stare over his own tankard. “Are you really going to stop? Holding the people back, I mean.”

“I have never held people back.”

“You talk, they listen. And you have always advocated that we don't make too many waves since we're guests here,” Crowe retorted with a snort.

Nyx made a face. This conversation was slowly slipping into an old discussion he has had more than once with his storm-siblings. He knew the things he said had a certain weight. He _knew_. He wasn't stupid. But that didn't mean that he could force the Galahkari to do his bidding. That's not how it worked in their society. The only thing he did was state his opinion, if people followed it, that was their business.

More than once Libertus and Crowe had tried to convince him to do more with the influence he did have, but politics had never been Nyx' thing. Now it started to look like he could no longer escape it. And that didn't even facture in his engagement to Cor yet.

Oh ahtrii. Cor. Things had just gotten more complicated.

“_... come the Crystal Knights, the traditional protectors of the Crystal, as guards of the court. They are lead by Knight Burrus, who was an honourable member of the Royal Guard before it was disbanded. They will open the doors to the throne room and, with this act, will open it for public court...”_

The smooth voice of the commentator startled Nyx out of his thoughts. For a moment conversations had hushed within the bar, but now they were starting up again, nearly drowning out the voice coming from the TV.

“Why is Murus turning up the volume now? If the Knights haven't even opened the doors yet, it's still going to be a while,” Crowe said.

“So we can all make fun about how much of a waste of time their whole affectation is?” Libertus suggested.

Nyx snorted and took a sip of his beer. It was heavy and strong. Not this watery stuff Lucians preferred. “It wasn't even funny the first time.”

“I'm with Nyx on this one,” Crowe said with a pointedly raised eyebrow. “I mean, how can people waste so much time on the simple task of opening a set of doors? Is that what kids in this city want to be in the future? Overqualified door openers?”

“But they _are_ overqualified.” Libertus obviously couldn't help himself.

Crowe shot him a glare. “Oh, you know what I mean. Everyone can open a damn door. You don't need to be a fancy knight to do it.”

Nyx leaned slightly to one side to get a better look at the TV where the top four members of the Crystal Knights were now standing at attention by the large and heavy double doors, while two rows of less elaborately dressed knights marched into the room and stood at attention at the edges of the carpet. It was a royal black with silver embroidery at the sides. Handmade and a few hundred years old as the commentator informed them.

From his point of view, Nyx could also see Luche paying rapt attention to what was going on on screen. The blond man had his back to him, so he couldn't be sure, but Nyx was certain that there would be a calculating gleam in his eyes. Luche had always liked to keep abreast of what was going on at court. For that, some people called him a sympathiser behind his back. Nyx for his part, thought the intention was closer to 'know thy enemy' than anything else.

“_... song has started._ Cantus Regnatoris. _This song was written by the Lady Carmen Amicitia for the coronation of Lucia Lucis Caelum LXXXIII, the Scholar, in the year 1888 AS – nine years before the implementation of the new calendar. This is the signal for Knight Burrus to open the doors.”_

“Oh, I bet this Lady Carmen and King Lucia were very close, if you know what I mean,” Crowe grinned and wagged her eyebrows.

“No bet,” Nyx shot back with an answering grin despite his mounting nervousness.

Usually, public court meetings like this weren't terribly exciting. Nyx got the feeling that they were made specifically to calm down the public and show them how great the government was working. There would be a whole lot of speeches and a tame debate or two, but he couldn't shake the feeling that things would go different this time.

The commentator's voice drifted through the bar again.

“_And here comes King Regis. He is wearing the full regalia of his house. The crown he chose upon is coronation is supposed to be a callback to the Draconian's horns, to show the Astral's connection with House Lucis Caelum. This is his twenty-second year of regency. In just a few weeks there will be the yearly celebration of his ascension to the throne. At his left shoulder walks his Lord Shield, Clarus Amicitia, the Duke of Taelpar...”_

“The Duke of what now?” someone in the room asked over the noise.

The question came from Hora Ostium, Murus' daughter and Libertus' cousin.

She sat with her siblings Era and Asa at the table next to the one Axis and his Clan's people occupied. At the loud question people within earshot turned around. Era sent her sister a nasty glare, whose cheeks turned a dusty red.

To Nyx' surprise it was actually Axis who answered before Libertus or another Ostium had the chance to. “Taelpar Crag is the large crevice that separates Cleigne from Duscae. There are only a few instances where you are able to cross it. People say an akastral who eats everyone who dares to enter, is living down there.”

“We crossed it to get here, didn't we?” Era asked.

Her usually quiet voice was in stark contrast to the broad build of her body and her rather considerable height. Nyx only heard her because it was getting quieter in the large room. Without really noticing it, he leaned forward in interest of where this conversation would go.

“We did,” said the older Arra woman next to Axis with a nod.

“I remember looking down and seeing all those crystals growing out of the stone. Hora asked thuir where the crows were because this place was clearly magic.”

“It's magic! You can't convince me otherwise. There was _something _and it felt like a bleeding wound,” Hora said.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Crowe frown. Out of the three of them, she was the one most sensitive to magic. When they had crossed the Crag for the first time she had said something to a similar effect, face pale and worried. Only after she had mentioned it, had Nyx noticed the queasy feeling in his gut and the taste of magic in the back of his mouth. It had reminded him of old blood.

Apparently Hora had a significant talent for sensing magic.

“Isn't that where most of the fighting is taking place right now?” Asa spoke up for the first time.

He was three years younger than his twin sisters and had inherited the slighter build of his grandmother, who was of the Patientia Clan.

A ripple of discontent flowed through the bar. The ever retreating front line was a very large sore spot for every Galahkar living in Insomnia. Their strategies and tactics were good, but there was always something. That little something Niflheim just knew to exploit. It left a bad taste in Nyx' mouth just thinking about it. He took a large gulp of his beer.

“It is,” Axis answered, voice drawn tight.

Asa frowned. “Shouldn't Clarus Amicitia fight with you, then? If Taelpar Crag is under his purview, shouldn't it be his and his family's responsibility to defend it?”

“Lucian nobles don't believe it's their duty to defend the lands under their purview with their own hands,” Luche spoke up. All eyes of those listening were now on him. “Maybe that's what they did to come to power, but now they're of the opinion that it's enough to let those who are supposed to be under their protection fight for them.”

The three siblings shared a look. Nyx found himself frowning at Luche. The blond man wasn't wrong. But Nyx had the feeling that this wasn't all. At least for the royal line. It was just a feeling he couldn't put his finger on. Next to him Libertus shifted, his face dark as a thunder cloud. Hearing the name of his fiancée spoken, made him look back at the TV again.

“_... Cor Leonis. Lord Marshal of the Lucian Army and Paladin of the Crystal. Normally a man of his standing would walk amongst the Lords and Ladies Ministers, but due to his place within King Regis' retinue, he is granted entrance before even the members of the Ruling Court. Oh, what is this?”_

Here the camera zoomed in on Cor. The frock coat of his dress uniform hid most of the wrinkles it had gotten due to Nyx rather well. He looked... sharp wearing it. Or rather, sharper. The black and golden uniform gave his already predatory grace something extra that made Nyx' heart miss a beat and his stomach clench.

Though this wasn't the focus of the camera. No. Instead the focus lay on his face. Or rather his neck. The wide, asymmetrical lapels of his frock coat gave a clear view of the stiff collar of the jacket he wore underneath it. There, stark against black fabric and silvery grey embroidery, lay a colourful necklace. The one Nyx had made for him. Nyx felt his cheeks grow hot and his mouth fall open.

Another ripple travelled through the patrons of the bar. But this time it wasn't discontent but astonishment. No one had expected Cor Leonis would wear the proof of his engagement with a Galahkar this openly. Not even Nyx. In silence the whole room listened as the commentator speculated over this new element. The air had grown charged.

“_Honoured viewers, the Lord Marshal appears to wear a necklace. This presents a grave breach of protocol. A member of the military is not allowed to wear personal jewellery easily visible on their body. Clearly, this is an intentional statement, one the King must have allowed. The necklace appears to be made of three leather cords in the colours of white, green and blue. Three beads have been worked into it. They seem to be precious stones. Clearly this has not been made by Lucian hands.”_

“What do you mean 'clearly not been made by Lucian hands' you idiot?” Libertus grumbled quietly.

Crowe made a shushing noise.

“It's very fine handiwork,” someone from the Arra table muttered.

People nodded. Even the Lazarus. Which was a huge compliment for Nyx. The Lazarus were not easily impressed when it came to jewellery not made by their own hands.

“_We just got confirmation from our contact within the Citadel, that King Regis has indeed given his blessing to this breech in protocol.”_ An excited undertone snuk itself into the commentator's voice. _“Further, it has been confirmed that the necklace symbolizes a deep and personal connection between the Lord Marshal and a member of the Galahdian community.”_

On TV the members of the Ruling Court were now making their entrance, though it seemed to be an afterthought to the commentator and the rest of the TV crew. The feed cut from the serious procession of ageing men and woman in full court regalia, to the throne room. King Regis was sitting on his throne with his Shield standing proudly at his side. Prince Noctis stood, his own Shield by his side, by an ornate chair situated on the landing of the stairs leading up to the throne and the gallery of the Ruling Court. The teenager was doing his best to seem dignified.

The whole bar watched as Cor stiffly bowed first to the King then the Prince, before he settled into a parade rest at the base of the stairs. He would only go to his seat once the Ruling Court had entered. As would Prince Noctis. All the while this was happening, the commentator alternated between narrating what was going on and speculating what Cor's necklace might mean.

“I feel like watching traffic while knowing an accident is going to happen,” Crowe whispered.

“You're not the only one,” Libertus whispered back.

Nyx nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. What was Cor's intention with this? It was a priceless gesture, yes, but one Nyx wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Was Cor officially announcing their engagement with this? Or was this simply a way to show solidarity? Was he doing this because of what had happened today?

A finger poked him hard in his side. He winced at the sudden sore spot just below his ribs, and hissed in irritation.

“Your magic is projecting,” Crowe whispered, face serious.

Nyx rumbled an apology that reverberated deep in his chest, and did his best to real his magic in. The smell of ozone that he hadn't noticed before, vanished from the air, as did the pressure that felt like an oncoming storm. His fingers had burned Lichtenberg figures into the wood of the barrel that was their table. Two tables down, Hora Ostium cast him a tense look, as did some other patrons.

To distract himself, Nyx chose to chew on a few nuts while watching the crowd. Hushed conversations started up again. Most likely about him and Cor. At the bar proper, Luche was looking at the TV with a pensive air. Tredd slipped into the crowded room and made his way over to the blond man, where they started a whispered conversation.

It took nearly another half an hour for the actual court meeting to start. During this time, Libertus had gone off to get them all steaming cups of fumir and a plate of fried sweet potato sticks to go with them, and three people had come to their table to congratulate Nyx on managing to get himself engaged to 'a Lucian with such a Galahdian temper'. He wasn't sure, if he should be insulted by that or not. Though with the hot and alcoholic beverage clutched between his hands and some greasy food within his stomach, he felt more like a proper human being again and less like a tired ball of seething rage.

The King's speech that followed the entrance ceremony, was as nondescript as it had always been, though how he could look as unruffled as he did by what happened this late morning, Nyx had no idea. Afterwards the Master of Ceremonies announced the agenda.

The man was of high nobility and carried himself with a self importance that rubbed Nyx the wrong way. His court dress looked like a ridiculous cross between a modern suit and a historical costume in smoky grey and dark green.

“_On this drakonday, the 15.3.751 of the Modern Era, this open court under King Regis Lucis Caelum, CXIII, shall commence. First, in regard of the ongoing war, there shall be a reviewal of the military. Second, there shall be a report concerning the state of Lucis as a whole, third, of the Crown City Insomnia. Forth...”_

The volume lowered a bit as the commentator spoke up again.

“_The points of the agenda have been done in the same order – with only minor variations – since the time of King Mors' reign. Lord Marshal Leonis shall be the first to speak, and if the King calls upon them, so will the leaders of the varying military arms.”_

“You think the Captain will be speaking?” Libertus asked.

“No idea. Though it doesn't seem very likely for it to happen,” Nyx shrugged.

Libertus gave a thoughtful hum.

The camera focused on the different military leaders. Cor sat on his chair at the base of the stairs, straight backed and stone faced. He looked every bit the Immortal now. Nyx hoped his fiancée would tell him in the future how exactly he had gotten that title. Next on screen were the heads of the different military arms who stood in the first row of the Lower Court. First was the head of the Citadel Guard, followed by the head of the City Guard, then the Head of the Border Patrol and, lastly, Captain Drautos. The man looked as unimpressed and stony faced as Cor, though there seemed to lurk something in the back of his eyes that came very close to disgust.

After that things went like they always did for a while and Nyx started to wonder why he still had such a foreboding feeling. It was like something was in the air. Subtle and spread through the whole city. It made him want to get out of Insomnia hand _hunt_.

It started with a small slight. Nyx hadn't even heard it, having been distracted with defending his share of the nuts that were still left from his storm-siblings. A tense hush fell over the room and made the three look up. On TV the voice of the commentator sputtered out with a quiet _“oh my”_ as the camera focused on Cor.

His face had gone from stony to thunderous as he slowly, oh so slowly stood up from his seat. The King let it happen. Quiet mutterings travelled though the throne room as people shifted, restless.

“_You have the audacity to accuse me of theft, Lord Sagitta?”_

Cor's voice travelled loudly through the throne room even though he barely raised it at all.

The lord in question sputtered. _“Of course not, Lord Marshal. I was just wondering how it can be that you advocate respecting a... foreign culture, when you yourself don't seem to adhere to your own words.”_

A few chairs down, Lord Caulis looked like he wanted nothing more than to wring Lord Sagitta's neck to make him stop talking. It was kind of amusing. Or would have been, if Nyx hadn't felt like his stomach was dropping into nothingness. He felt every single muscle in his body lock up as he stared at the screen. The whole bar had gone deathly quiet. It was an eerie atmosphere with easily close to a hundred people in the room.

The fingers of Cor's right hand twitched and Nyx got the feeling he either wanted to summon his sword or skim his fingers over the necklace.

“_I do not have to justify myself to you, my Lord.”_

“_Of course not, Lord Marshal,”_ Lord Sagitta said in fake understanding. _“But one cannot help but wonder just how sincere your earlier words were when we are to consider the evidence in front of us.”_

“Just fucking choke on your words,” Nyx whispered.

“_This... this is quite unprecedented,”_ the commentator said in a hushed tone of voice, as a tense silence spread through the throne room. _“It appears like Lord Sagitta has personally attacked the Lord Marshal over his personal conduct with the refugees. There must have been talks behind closed doors for it to escalate to this within a public court meeting. After all, it is very well known that the Lord Marshal is a very private man. But the question presents itself on why King Regis isn't doing anything. Arguments have been had within these gatherings before, but never has the King been such a passive force during them.”_

Cor's expression did not waver the tiniest bit. Nyx admired the sheer self-control that took.

“_One does not have to resort to stealing, Lord Sagitta, to gain something one might want.”_ Somehow, despite the hardness in his voice, Cor made it sound like he was scolding a child. _“The Galahkari have a market where you can buy their wares. They have excellent craftsmen and -women who make these wares. If you want to have a part of their culture so badly, I suggest you go to Little Galahd and buy what material goods you seek.”_

Tredd barked a startled laugh. The red haired man shook his head in quiet disbelief as heads turned to stare at him. There was something in his expression that made Nyx want to know what the other man was thinking.

In the background of the scene shown on TV, Captain Drautos was staring at Cor's back with an unreadable expression.

“_Are you accusing Lord Sagitta of theft, Lord Marshal?”_ a member of the Higher Court demanded. If Nyx remembered right, this was Lady Trutina, the highest judge in Lucis outside of the King himself.

If possible, Cor stood up even straighter than he already was, his eyes as cold as ice. At once Nyx knew what he was going to say.

“_Yes.”_

That one word was enough to not only throw the throne room into chaos, but also the bar. It was like the tension in the air snapped as people started to talk all at once. On both sides of the screen, people jumped up from their seats and gesticulated wildly.

Nyx was amongst those who had stood up, mouth gaping. His cup rolled over the table, blessedly empty already. Had Cor just...? Had his fiancée really just accused the Minister of Outside Affairs of theft against the Galahkari on public TV? He could scarcely believe it.

In the throne room Cor remained a calm monolith amongst the people yelling their protests, staring straight at Lord Sagitta, who had gone red in the face with anger.

For the first time since the whole thing had gone so blatantly off script, King Regis intervened. With just lifting his hand slightly, he commanded the room into silence within seconds. Prince Noctis could be seen, looking around with slightly widened eyes. Poor kid.

“_This is a heavy departure from this day's agenda. Under normal circumstances I would not condone this happening. But those are grave accusations you raise against the Lord Minister Sagitta, Lord Marshal. Do you have the evidence for it?”_

Cor tilted his head into what could be considered a nod.

“Oh fuck off,” Crowe breathed.

“_Tell me, Lord Sagitta, since when do we keep inventory lists of possessions from those who seek refuge within Insomnia?”_ the Marshal demanded, voice cold and harder than stone.

Had the Lord looked smug and self assured as King Regis had started speaking, now he had gone white as a sheet.

“_It is so that nothing dangerous makes its way into our city. It is for our protection!”_ the Lord Minister stuttered out.

It was the Lady Trutina who spoke next. Her face was set in a deep, disapproving frown. _“That is an unprecedented violation against our privacy laws, Lord Sagitta._ _De jure, the island nation of Galahd belongs to the Kingdom of Lucis, so they also fall under these laws. I cannot remember ever having sanctioned something like this.”_

“_The Lord Marshal cannot have acquired such paperwork with legal means!”_ Lord Sagitta cried.

“_So you admit to such paperwork existing?”_

“_No! I-”_

Here and there quiet laughter sounded in the bar as the Lord Minister stuttered his way through an answer. Cor's expression had not changed from its stony and cold exterior, but Nyx got the impression that he was grinning like a cat who had gotten the canary. Lord Caulis and a few other's in the vicinity looked like they wanted to silence the floundering man, while others turned away in disgust. Whatever would happen after this, Lord Sagitta's reputation would be damaged for quite some time.

“_Lord Sagitta, you are the Minister of Outside Affairs. Within it is the Commission of Immigration and Refugees.”_ As Cor said this, the camera focused solely on him. _“Over the last few days I have been in the company of Galahkari, and I overheard some disturbing things. Most of it boils down to one question: What happened when the Galahdian refugees came to seek shelter in Insomnia?”_

Libertus choked. Nyx did not even realize he was patting his best friend's back, too shocked with what was happening. He had asked Cor a question to that effect.

“_It was a very chaotic situation. I do not remember what might or might not have happened. My Ministry did its best with the limited time and money we had,”_ the noble defended himself.

His voice had gained a shrill quality that made it grating to listen to.

“_But you had enough time for inventory lists?”_

“_My Lord Sagitta,”_ King Regis spoke up. At once the feed cut to him. _“I remember at one of your annual winter tea parties, there was a large tapestry on display. It was quite the unusual piece; colourful and dynamic. Upon my inquiries you told me you bought it from Lord Caulis as a little bit of self indulgence for a job well done when it came to the refugee situation. Over the last few years I admit on having gained a very perfunctory understanding of Galahkari art, and I must say, it is very easy for your tapestry to fall into this category. I also remember you telling me, Lord Sagitta, that you had no interest for art and craftsmanship that comes from outside the Lucian continent. Now, please answer the Lord Marshal's and Lady Trutina's questions.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazzhands*  
Tadaaaa XD
> 
> Things took quite the u-turn, didn't they? Anyone notice that I still don't have let go of by obsession with someone burning down a building or two quite soon?  
What Regis means when he says he has gained a superficial understanding of Galahkari art over some time: *frantically does some research before court starts*   
Also I'm open for any comments, speculations where this might lead, theories, constructive criticism or just getting yelled at.   
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm certainly looking forward to the next one.
> 
> Until then!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the epic smack-down part two and its immediate consequences.

Cor took great care to keep the deep satisfaction that curled in his chest, from his face. His prey was within sight now, but it would not do to count the bones yet. While Sagitta's watery eyes flittered across the room in search for aide, Cor caught the eyes of his own unexpected ally.

Lady Trutina's greying hair was carefully coiffed and one eye was hidden behind a gold wired monocle, whose chain vanished in the collar of her court robes. It should not have been too surprising that she spoke up, he supposed. It was one of the reasons Regis had named her High Judge of the Crown in the first place. The Lady was one of the rare people who absolutely abhorred injustice and was not afraid to speak up about it. Her only flaw was that she only did so concerning injustices she personally saw.

“Well? Has your tongue taken leave, Lord Sagitta?” the Lady High Judge asked, voice scathing. “Did your Ministry make lists enumerating the possessions of the Galahdian people?”

While Sagitta stammered out his denials, Cor shifted slightly to search the ranks of the Higher Court. He suppressed the urge to reach for the necklace on bold display around his neck. It would be a bad habit to have. Lord Caulis, who sat a few chairs down from Sagitta, had gone white as a sheet, as had Lord Ignavus who sat to Sagitta's right. The men were better politicians than their accomplice, but now even they began to get nervous. The Lord's eyes settled on certain nobles for just a few seconds longer than they should and Cor made careful not of them.

All in all, he counted three, including an element situated behind him where the Lower Court was situated, more specifically members of the military. At that realization something cold settled in his stomach. Who? Who was it? Cor could not turn around now, else he would give the game away.

“So you are saying, Lord Sagitta, that you did the best you could with what you had,” Cor interrupted the poor excuse of a human being.

“Of course! But there were just too many people coming. They had to be processed quickly and housing units be made available, not to speak of medical aid and basic necessities,” the Minister of Outside Affairs said.

There was a shrillness in his voice that normally wasn't there.

“Your Majesty, if I may?”

Lord Cinis Scientia, Count of Cauthess, stepped forward. He was Regis' Chief of Staff. If something was going on within the Citadel, it was his job to know about it.

Regis gave a wink for the Count to continue. Cor's eyebrows rose the tiniest fraction. Cinis practically never got involved in the squabbles of the nobles. He was a bastion of neutrality.

“I have a question for you, Lord Sagitta. Do you remember Saxham?”

The Minister blinked, stumped. “What has that to do with everything?”

Lord Scientia turned back towards the King. “I swear for this question to be of relevance, Your Majesty.”

“Please continue,” said Regis, and Cor could see the flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

It took the Marshal a moment longer to understand what Lord Scientia was going for, but when he did, he did his best not to bear his teeth in a satisfied snarl. This would be very interesting, indeed. The longer this situation went on, the more nobles cast nervous glances at the cameras within the throne room. They were not comfortable with the thought of having the skeletons of one of their own be brought to light in front of the whole city.

“Now please answer the question, my Lord.” Lord Scientia turned back to the Minister, eyes piercing.

“Of course I remember Saxham,” the Minister said with indignation.

Lord Scientia gave a single nod. “It is to the south of Cauthess. The land there has been in the possession of my family for long generations now. Not until too long ago, it was a bustling city with a large farming community, and a large part of their produce was for this wonderful city. Due to a bussemand attack destroying the light barriers, Saxham had to be abandoned. Over five thousand of its citizens sough refuge within Insomnia. Tell me, Lord Sagitta, how long did it take the Commission of Immigration and Refugees to register them all and find them suitable housing?”

“It has been quite some years since this happened, my Lord. I fear I do not remember the exact amount of time the Commission needed,” Lord Sagitta said with what was probably supposed to be a placating smile on his face.

It looked like an ill fitting mask.

“Quite understandable. You are a busy man, my Lord,” Lord Scientia said without turning a hair. “Luckily I was very involved in the process, and remember quite well. Registration and health checks were done within a day, provisory housing was cleared within the same timespan. Appropriate housing for everyone was acquired within a month. It was quite a feat.”

“We did our best for our citizens,” Lord Sagitta said, chest swelling with pride.

Cor made no effort to hide his disgusted scoff. People looked at him, though Clarus' gaze was more a warning to be cautious.

“It is like the Lady Trutina said: De jure, Galahd is part of Lucis, its people citizens of the Crown. Why then did it take the Commission over three times as long to process five thousand Galahkari in contrast to five thousand Duscans?”

“There were more than five thousand Galahdians outside our borders wanting to get in!” Lord Sagitta erupted.

“That is without question,” Lord Scientia cut in. “But the Lord Marshal took the question right out of my mouth. Saxham proves we have a precedent of admitting a large number of people within Insomnia. How then did it come to the chaos it did, when the Galahdian people came to us?”

“That is enough! Enough of those false accusations! We are in public court, not a hearing. If there are accusations to be made, we must go the proper way. Lady Trutina, would you be willing to preside over the proceedings?”

It was Lord Ignavus who had spoken. Through his genial facade, it was easy to see how incensed he was over having to speak up.

Lady Trutina gave a tiny frown and nodded. “Of course, Lord Ignavus. If it is His Majesty's will, I will do so.”

Regis' expression was hidden behind a carefully neutral face as he nodded. Cor couldn't help the spark of disappointment he felt. He had hoped to finish this today before those involved in this could do something stupid, like destroying evidence.

Court went on for another hour at least, though Cor didn't pay too much attention once they moved on from the war and the refugee situation. Instead he tried to decide what to do next, and hoped Nyx' people wouldn't do anything rash. Well, too rash.

What he needed to do now was to decide his next step. In this situation he couldn't just run at his problems, sword swinging. He sighed through his nose. This was exactly why he preferred to stay a military man and not get involved in politics. It generally wasn't worth the headache.

But Nyx was.

The thought hit him unawares as he watched the Lower Court exit the throne room. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him. Nyx was easy to be around and surprisingly easy to like. He was a good fighter. Loyal. He stood by his convictions and cared deeply about his people. His sense of humour was one Cor could actually understand, and his was understood in return.

There were many reasons why this revelation should not surprise him. He did not love Nyx, at least he didn't think so. But the possibility for it was there. Most likely, it was this fact that surprised Cor so. It had been a long while since he had even entertained the possibility to have a romantic relationship with someone, and with Nyx he had had barely time to blink and was already halfway there.

* * *

“Cor! What were you thinking, doing something like this on life television?” Clarus hissed once he stepped through the doors of the King's private study about an hour after he had managed to leave the throne room.

He had taken the time to go into his office to have a stiff drink and contemplate changing his clothes. Ultimately he had decided against the latter, simply because he had forgotten to take a change of clothes with him.

Setting down his drink, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Which was the exact moment his business phone rang. With a grunt he sat up straight and glared at the apparatus on his desk, before he picked up the receiver.

“Leonis,” he barked.

Please let this not be another attack from Niflheim. He did not need his day to get any worse.

“You sound like you need to punch something,” said the voice on the other end.

At once Cor could feel his muscles relax.

“Nyx,” he said.

His mouth ticked upwards and his eyes softened. Astrals save him, he had inadvertently gotten engaged to this man mere days ago, and already he got like this just by hearing his voice.

“Do you need something? How did you get this number?”

“Ah, I have my ways.” Nyx sounded decidedly mischievous. “Just wanted to check up on you. Can't be fun to be in the same room with so many nobles.”

Cor gave an amused snort, though something warm and fierce sparked in his chest. “You asked Monica, didn't you?”

“I asked Monica,” Nyx parroted, grin clear in his voice.

The smile on Cor's face grew just a smidgeon.

“So,” the younger man said, “how're you holding up?”

There was a roaring sound on the other end of the phone. Like a large crowd talking. The sound swelled and then dimmed.

“I've been better. Where are you?” Cor asked to distract himself.

“Outside a bar. Libertus' uncle owns it. We watched the court meeting there.”

“Ah,” was all Cor thought to say.

“Cor, what- what you did there... I'm not sure it'll help, but thanks. It's the most anyone has tried to do.”

There was a vulnerability in the last statement that made the Marshal's throat constrict. He cleared his throat, suddenly not sure what to do with himself even though Nyx could not see him.

“You're welcome,” he blurted like an idiot, and wanted to hit himself over the head right after the words had left his mouth.

A quiet bark of laughter.

“Sagitta's face was priceless. As was Ignavus'. I hope they both choke.”

“Please don't get arrested for attempted murder,” Cor couldn't help but plead half-heartedly.

“Don't worry, I wouldn't get caught.”

“That doesn't exactly help. But if you need help to hide some bodies, ring me up.”

“Hhmmm,” made Nyx, seeming to seriously consider it.

It was only mildly concerning.

“Nyx?”

Another hum.

“I need to meet with the King.”

“Okay. Just one more thing: I managed to keep a lid on things until tomorrow, I think. But if you don't find some kind of solution or a solid plan at least, things will get explosive.”

“That's a rather short time frame, don't you think?”

“It's really not,” Nyx said, voice hard. “You Lucians had years to do something. Find a solution. Make things right. Years and years and nothing happened. So don't complain about not having enough time. There was more than enough.”

The silence between them was heavy and uncomfortable. Suddenly Cor became aware that he had never truly been in a minority. Not like Nyx, at least. But he thought about the little village he had been born in, all the little habits he had had, that other's had made fun of him over. How he had worked to adopt new 'appropriate' ones and still some people called him an outsider even now. It was not the same, not by a long shot, but...

“I'm sorry,” he found himself say.

“No. No, it's not your fault. It's just...”

“Yeah.”

They were silent again, though this time it was less uncomfortable. Cor looked at the clock.

“Nyx, I need to go now.”

A sigh. “Alright. Take care.”

“You too.”

The line went dead.

For a moment Cor just sat in his chair, receiver still pressed to his ear, as if in a trance. Then he shook himself, gulped down the last of his drink – though it now had a foul aftertaste – and stood up to meet Regis and Clarus.

Only Clarus' question, once he reached the study, drew him from his brooding thoughts.

“I was thinking that I wanted to punch the man in the face, but did the next best thing instead,” Cor said in a deadpan.

“Cor,” Clarus said again, visibly grasping for patience, “you can't do something like that.”

“I just did, didn't I?”

“Please, my friends.” They both looked to Regis who stood next to his chair. “I can understand why you did it, but now they are warned and can prepare themselves.”

Irritation sparked in Cor's chest and pulled his lips back into a snarl. “With all due respect, Regis, I don't think you do. Understand. And neither does Clarus. Pitioss, I don't really understand this either.”

“This isn't a fight where you can just swing your sword and be done with it, Cor. You have your strengths, none of them lie in word play and political subterfuge. What you did was incredibly stupid, not to say irresponsible,” Clarus said.

Cor gave him a piercing stare. “You have to admit that it was very satisfying to see Sagitta flailing like that.”

“There is that,” Clarus admitted after a long second of silence, face perfectly straight.

Regis gave a quiet chuckle. “I think that we can all agree on. But Cor, I think I understand rather well. You saw an injustice rendered against your fiancée and acted on it. That is perfectly understandable, even if you did so rather rashly.”

Hearing those words, Cor felt his shoulders sag and himself sigh in resignation. This reminded him too much of his teenage years.

“I did not do what I did simply because Nyx is my fiancée. Through the talks I have had with him, I came to understand that the Galahkari will die by staying here, if we don't do anything.”

That might have been a rather dramatic way to say it, but that didn't make it any less true. He did not quite share this belief, but he had come to understand that this is what Nyx' people thought. For them, this was a very real truth.

“What do you mean by that?” Regis asked. “They are safe within the city. Niflheim cannot get to them here, though I admit it is rather astonishing that over ninety percent of the Kingsglaive are Galah-kari.”

“This is neither about the Kingsglaive nor Niflheim. This is about Lucis and Insomnia, and how we all causally expect them to shed their culture, their very identity because they are an uprooted people. They live and breath their culture, Regis. This is not like the regional differences between Cavaugh, Leide, Duscae and Cleigne.”

Something heavy settled into the room when the last words were spoken. Cor looked up at the Conqueror's portrait on the wall behind Regis' desk, and sighed. How should the explain this? He wasn't even sure he understood it himself. Not fully, at least.

“Have you talked with Nyx about this?” Regis asked in a gentle voice.

Cor shook his head. “Not in such detail, but I have eyes and ears. For years we expected them to be like everybody else and act insulted when they very clearly aren't. This is just asking for conflict, and what Minister Ignavus and the Lord Curator did is not helping by any means.”

“What do you think we should do then?” Clarus wanted to know. The expression on his face was one of deep puzzlement. “I recognize that between the three of us, you're the best at actually grasping the situation.”

“Shut down the exhibition immediately, for one. Make the Curator and all people involved give you proof of where they got the exhibition pieces from. You mentioned Sagitta having a tapestry? Make him give proof as to where he acquired it, too. I have Monica and Dustin looking into every single shred of evidence to this they can find. Make the announcements for the museum as soon as you can, Majesty. If you can manage it today, that would be best.”

Regis and Clarus just nodded, both likely realizing that time was running short. The window in which they could act was closing rapidly, though Cor didn't think the other two realized just how rapidly. He was just contemplating on how to best communicate that, when an urgent knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Regis called and Cor straightened his posture.

Instead of the guard on duty stepping in to announce who wanted to speak to him, it was Monica who entered. Cor only needed to take one look at his second in command to know that something had happened. Monica looked as professional as she always did, but there was a grim tilt to her mouth and a resigned glint in her eyes. Her hair was slightly windswept, as if she had run part of the way here.

“Your Majesty, Lord Shield, Marshal. I am sorry to interrupt, but there has been an... incident.”

“Has Niflheim staged another attack?” Regis demanded.

Monica shook her head, and something within Cor's chest loosened and tightened at the same time. “No, Your Majesty. Lord Sagitta's residence went up in flames about fifteen minutes ago.”

His veins ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUNNNN.
> 
> Something is burning! Like I promised :D Everyone who guessed right gets a virtual cookie.   
I hope y'all had fun reading even with the heavy topics involved. In the beginning I wanted to make the court scene longer, but then it started to drag, so it's relatively short. And yeah, it's not a clear cut win on Cor's side, but rules are rules and where would we be if the King could just lynch people like he wanted to? Anyway, now there's a court case. Will it do anything? We will see.
> 
> Thanks for reading and see you all next chapter or in the comments!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a house burns down and tension is high.
> 
> Warnings:  
talk about torture, violence, swearing and angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hadnissa words:
> 
> kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit  
ntari = shame  
Galahkari = people of Galahd

Nyx stared down at the phone, thumb still hovering where he had pressed to end the call. Behind him the door to the bar opened again and a wave of noise washed over him. It had gotten louder since he had stepped outside, the discussions more heated. What Cor had done...

“You going to stay there staring into space, or are you coming back inside? It looks like there's going to be a bar fight later tonight. Might be fun,” Libertus said behind him.

Nyx shook his head and looked up. His best friend leaned against the grimy wall with its fading colours, next to the door, arms crossed and an overly cheerful smile on his face. To most people he might seem relaxed, but Nyx knew he was just as wound up as every Galahkar, who had seen the broadcast, had to be right now.

“Since when do you think a bar fight is fun?” Nyx asked with a grin to lighten his mood.

Libertus grin grew a tad more sincere. “Since it's not my bar they're demolishing.”

Nyx couldn't help the quiet chuckle. It was true. Every time it had looked like a fight would break out in his and Libertus' bar, his friend had charged at the participants like a furious gekkan and thrown them out, most of the time roaring something along the lines of them “not coming back until you've cooled your heads, you bloody idiots!”

“So. You coming back inside instead of mooning over your phone?”

“I was not mooning over my phone!” Nyx exclaimed, indignation colouring his voice.

“You totally were,” Libertus grinned and pushed himself away from the wall. “C'mon. Maybe we get to see Axis loose his temper for the very first time in his life.”

To this Nyx rolled his eyes, but he followed his best friend back inside just the same. The air had grown thick and stale with so many people packed inside the large room for such a long amount of time. It smelled of beer and cigarette smoke and sweat. Combined with the clamour of voices speaking his native tongue, he was reminded of the time he himself had been a bartender at Libertus' bar for a scant two years.

“And I'm telling you this was staged!” a male voice cried, trying to drown out everybody else. “If the King really wanted to do something, he would have done so years ago!”

Surprisingly it was mild mannered Pelna that was right in the other man's face. “The King knows very well what will happen, if this turns out to be some ploy to keep us quiet. The last thing he needs with the war going on, is us rioting in the streets! So he'll do his damnest to have us not do that.”

“Including staging something like this!” the man shot back, a mean expression on his face.

“Do you even listen to yourself?” Crowe called from further back.

“In case all of you have already forgotten, it wasn't the King who started this whole thing,” Axis said dryly and barely heard over the noise.

“No. He went along with it because the Marshal started it, and the Marshal did it because of Nyx,” Ariadne Utris, a distant cousin of Nyx', interjected.

She was barely two years older than him and one of the few people of the Utris Clan he could actually stand. Back on Galahd, she had been a weapons smith specializing in short swords and knives, here in Insomnia she worked in construction.

At once all eyes around Nyx settled on him, he did his best not to shift uncomfortably at the sudden attention.

“That may be right,” he conceded, “but if Cor wasn't one hundred percent behind this, he would never have spoken up in the first place.”

Some people nodded in agreement, some seemed sceptical, and then the whole argument started anew. Nyx searched the faces in the crowd. He shot Crowe and Pelna a quick smile and gave Ariadne a quick nod in greeting which she returned stoically. Something was off.

Somewhere by the bar a Lazarus woman got into an argument with Murus about the Lucian right to rule over Galahd while not too far away, a few Arra, Khara and Altius Clan members stood huddled together, locked in a heated discussion of their own. It wasn't until he saw Sonitus worriedly alternating between staring at him and at the door, that it clicked. In the whole room not a single head of red hair was to be seen.

With a single minded determination Nyx made his way over to his fellow Glaive. From the moment Sonitus realized he was the focus of Nyx' efforts, he practically snapped into parade rest, his whole body vibrating with tension. Behind him, he could hear swearing as people were pushed aside by Libertus, who followed in his wake.

“Nyx.”

“Where are they, Sonitus?” Nyx asked harsher than he meant to, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

“I don't-”

“Where. Are. They?”

The other Glaive looked clearly conflicted. He averted Nyx' gaze and balled his hands into fists. Nyx' body tensed in preparation for a fight.

“What's going on here?” Crowe demanded when she finally made it through to them.

“Every single Furia who was here, is gone,” Nyx ground out between clenched teeth as he continued to stare at the man in front of him.

“You better start talking, or I swear by my ancestors, you'll meet yours sooner rather then later,” Libertus growled.

Still stubborn silence was their answer. Nyx forced his body to relax; they were getting nowhere like this. He sighed.

“Sonitus. I know Tredd, and we all know how the Furia are in general. If we don't stop them, something will go up in flames, and then the Lucians will start a smear campaign against us. I don't want that to happen, I don't want any of us to end up to their neck in shit they can't dig themselves out of. So please, Sonitus. Where did they go?”

He saw the moment Sonitus gave in, his shoulders sacked and for a moment he seemed to curl in on himself, before he straightened, face perfectly blank as if he was standing in front of a commanding officer.

“You need to understand that this has been in the works for quite some time. I heard Tredd and some others of his Clan talk about this sometimes, when they were especially frustrated. They said it was a joke, and at first I thought it was just a way for them to vent, but...”

“But what?” Libertus asked. “Something must have happened.”

“The Marshal. He happened,” Sonitus said with a glare in Libertus' direction.

For a moment Nyx didn't know what to say. Cor? It was a known fact that members of the Furia Clan were very impulsive, but what Cor had done during public court should not have incited them to violence. Sonitus looked at him and rolled his eyes.

“Spirits, you can be so stupid sometimes. The coeurl pelt. They were not the only ones furious about your acceptance of it. You're an Ulric. The Last of a Clan. And here you are, parading an outsider, a Lucian, the leader of the Crown's Forces, around like you're proud of it.” At the end Sonitus' voice was barely more than a hiss.

Nyx felt himself go pale.

“How dare you!” Libertus growled, voice barely constrained in volume. “You know as well as everybody else what coeurls mean to our culture, what they mean to the Ulrics, and Nyx especially. That pelt was given with sincerity. He couldn't have said no, and you know it. It would have meant Bad Faith not only for him, but everyone who witnessed it.”

“Didn't need to be such a smug asshole about it,” was the muttered answer.

Libertus snarled and made a threatening step towards the other man. Nyx shook his head and stretched out his arm to hold him back, while Crowe stepped closer, prepared to step in, should this confrontation come to blows. Nyx took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. Now was not the time to discuss his unwitting engagement to Cor Leonis.

“I'm very well aware that some people are not happy about my involvement with Cor. What's more important right now, is that you tell me what Tredd plans to do.”

Sonitus face twisted into a grimace. He didn't seem to agree with Tredd's plan either. “The talks turned more serious after... after that. You know what happened when we came to Insomnia, people have been furious at the King ever since. But we can't reach the King, so they'll target the second best person on their list.”

“Don't make me ask.”

“It's Sagitta.”

Nyx was on his way out of the bar before Sonitus had finished speaking the name. He did not care who he shoved out of the way, and as he barrelled out the door, he groped for his phone in hopes of reaching Cor, to warn him that something was happening, even if Nyx still had no idea what it was. Two sets of footsteps followed him. He did not need to turn around to know who it was. With quick fingers he pulled up his list of recently dialled numbers and selected Cor's. After the eighth ring he hung up to try again. Still nothing.

“Kohna,” he growled under his breath and picked up the pace.

* * *

The Sagitta family did not belong to the high nobility, no matter what the current Lord's position as the Minister of Outside Affairs might imply, so he did not live in one of the old mansions in the Magnificentia. Instead the family lived in a large town house in the Altus District. It stood on its own, which was a rarity in Insomnia, with its own front garden and backyard that were encompassed by a large wall. Nyx could tell what was wrong at first glance.

Smoke rose into the darkening sky, panicked voices could be heard. The house was burning, even if the flames weren't visible yet. The street was full of spectators – all prim and proper nobles, who normally turned their noses up at people doing something as plebeian as gawping. Nyx just barrelled past them, not caring who saw him, and ran through the open iron gates.

In the front garden, a group of people stood. A few seemed to be members of the Sagitta family's household staff, the others sported the signature red hair of the Furia Clan. Behind the large windows the flickering of the fire grew steadily stronger. It wouldn't take long now, until the flames started to devour the house in earnest.

Nyx skidded to a stop to reorient himself, chest heaving from his mad dash up here from Little Galahd. The household staff noticed him first and threw nervous glances his way, one even whispered something about the Kingsglaive and refugees. Nyx ignored them in favour of looking for his target. He found him in the far corner, standing beneath a large cherry tree and arguing with Luche of all people. Nyx started to move.

“... worth the effort. There was barely anything in there,” Tredd said full of anger and disappointment.

“Do you realize what you did in your idiocy, Tredd? Why did you listen to-”

Before Luche could continue, Nyx had reached the two men, grabbed both at the scruff of their necks and slammed them into the trunk of the cherry tree with as much force as he was able. The two choked grunts of surprise did nothing to soothe the sudden rage bubbling in his chest.

He bared his teeth and growled: “You two fucking shitheads. I expected this stupidity from Tredd, but you, Luche, you surprised me, and not in a good way.”

With a snarl Tredd spit into his face and tried to knee him into the crotch. Within a split second Nyx judged Luche to be less of a flight risk, let him go and intercepted the attack. Barely three seconds later, he had Tredd pressed face first against the ground. The red head tried to throw Nyx off him, but managed barely more than a useless wriggle. He roared in frustration and pent up rage.

Meanwhile, Luche had stumbled a few steps away, coughing and gasping for breath. “I tried to stop him,” he rasped.

“Oh really? Well, a wonderful bloody job you did,” Nyx snarled. “Do you even realize what you just did?

“Hah, better than you, probably,” Luche grunted with a half-smirk.

“Now is not the bloody time for bloody jokes,” Nyx shot back with a glare, and dug his knee deeper into Tredd's lower back just because he could.

The other man spit a slew of curses at him, which were soundly ignored. This was the moment Libertus and Crowe ran into the front garden. Both looked sweaty and breathed hard, though neither was worse for wear. At once both zeroed in on him and hurried over.

“Why do you have to be so fast, man?” Libertus said once he was close enough.

“Just one of my many talents,” Nyx grinned, only to grow serious again a moment later. “Libertus, make sure no one leaves the front garden. Especially those idiots over there.” He indicated towards the group of Furia Clan members still present. “Crowe, can you go to the backyard and see if anyone is still there? There must be some loot around and people to carry it off.”

They both gave him grim nods and turned away. Crowe manoeuvred herself on top of the wall surrounding the property, and flit along the elaborate stone shingles. Libertus, meanwhile, made himself as large and intimidating as possible, and stepped towards the group of redheads.

“Alright you dickheads. Let's have a nice talk until the cavalry arrives,” he called in a voice loud enough, the people outside on the street had most likely heard him too.

“Nyx, I-” Luche started to speak up once Libertus was out of immediate earshot, only to be interrupted.

“Shut your bloody mouth, Luche!” Nyx barked. “Don't- don't talk to me. No matter what you two do, I will shave you both bald, you hear me? Now, I'll ask a few questions and you better answer, and answer fast, before I decide to make you both breathe sunlight.”

Beneath him Tredd went very, very still, while Luche had gone pale enough to look whiter than a sheet of paper. 'Breathing sunlight' was an old Ulric term, one not used lightly. It was a form of torture commonly known on Galahd as Blood Eagle, which inevitably lead to a gruesome and painful death.

The windows of the house started bursting and heat rolled through the air, neither of the three flinched while shocked cries filled the tense silence along with the ever growing louder crackle of the flames. Somewhere in the distance the sound of sirens blaring steadily came closer. Nyx blinked and tried to breathe through his anger, to order his thoughts. He was only mildly successful.

“I have a pretty good guess on what by Pitioss came over you, so you can spare me your blabbering. What I want to know is who. Who gave you the means to pull this off? I know you don't have the guts to act on your own. Not even with the shits in your Clan, you managed to convince.”

“Drautos!” Tredd cried, panic in his voice. “It was Captain Drautos!”

First, surprise made Nyx freeze and almost loose his grip. Almost. Then fury dug into his veins crystal sharp and toxic like the poisonous black roses of Galahd. He growled, deep and guttural. His teeth gnashed together until he felt his jaw creak.

“What did you just say?” he heard himself ask as if through water.

“It was Captain Drautos!” Tredd repeated, toes scraping uselessly against the ground. “He came to us, said he found out what the Lucians were doing with the things they took from us. Said he knew a way to get it back. Ask Luche, he was there, too.”

Nyx looked up at the blond man who had not moved from where he stood, seemingly frozen in place. His normally neatly done hair had gone into complete disarray, and the flickering light of the fire gave his countenance a sickly sheen. Nyx couldn't find it in him to feel any pity for the man.

“Tredd speaks the truth,” Luche relented after a short beat of silence. “The Captain, he- there was always talk against the Lucians and the King, you know that, and when the Captain heard, all he did was order them to keep it quiet. Over time he said less and less about it, until some people came to rant at him about it behind closed doors.”

“Quit the prattle and come to the point,” Nyx barked.

He was dangerously close to loosing what remained of his tattered patience. If he had to listen to Luche trying to distract from his own role in this, for too much longer, he was going to snap. Luche's expression first grew tight, then flat as he nodded.

“Draskelio Furia was the first to propose the idea in earnest after the Captain told us about the planned exhibit. After what happened between you and the Marshal, Tredd went to the Captain about it and came back with a plan.”

A bark of hysteric laughter escaped Nyx' throat. Outside the iron gate tires screeched. The fire brigade had finally arrived. There would be nothing much left of the house to salvage. If a Furia decided to burn something to the ground, there wouldn't be much left of it, if anything at all. People in protective gear started to swarm the place and began herding the household staff out of the front garden, but until now no one had come near the trio.

“And what a great plan that was!” Nyx said in faux cheer while he pressed more of his weight down on Tredd.

The red head gave a choked breath and a curse that was swallowed by the dirt underneath him. Nyx was sorely tempted to summon a bit of lighting into his hands. Next to him, the air moved. A moment later Crowe was back. He spared her a glance and she shook her head. So they had been gone already. Fuck.

Over the hustle and bustle Nyx didn't notice the the King's approach until Crowe gave a hissed breath of surprise. He looked up, eyes cold and expression sharp. The Lord Shield walked at the King's left and Cor at the King's right. All three of them looked serious and grave, though Cor very clearly wanted to reach for his sword with the way his hand was clenching and unclenching.

“Glaive, report!” the King ordered, voice cold and eyes twin beacons of cursed fire.

“Sir!”

Crowe saluted and began to outline the happenings that lead them here.

Meanwhile, Nyx found Cor's eyes. He did not know the Marshal well enough yet to know what the man was silently trying to convey, but Nyx knew he realized one wrong move would result in bloodshed. Nyx did not know what kind of face he was making, but Cor's frown became grim.

“Let me up,” Tredd demanded when Crowe ended her report.

Nyx was very much not inclined to do so.

“Sir Ulric,” the King said.

With a grunt Nyx shifted his grip around Tredd's wrists and hauled the man up to his knees, arms still twisted behind his back to make sure he wouldn't try anything. The red head gave a relieved groan.

“Thank you for taking the culprits into custody, Sir Ulric. They will be taken in for questioning, afterwards it will be decided how to proceed,” the King continued.

Nyx gave a single nod, but did not move. The Lord Shield, who had had a very close eye on Luche, opened his mouth, yet before he could say anything, Nyx spoke.

“Crowe, hold him down.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” Tredd demanded as the two exchanged places.

“I told you, didn't I? I will shave you bald no matter what you do.”

With a nasty grin he reached towards Tredd's belt, where a knife had been tucked in. It was not his Kingsglaive issued weapon, luckily. Otherwise this would have become a whole lot more difficult. All three Lucians made a move to stop him, but, surprisingly, it was Luche who held them back with a raised hand and shake of his head.

Calloused fingers dug into short, red hair and, with a control that belied his inner fury, Nyx began to drag the knife across the other man's scalp. Tredd held impossibly still, eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw set in feeble defiance. To the backdrop of a burning house and the fire brigade doing their best to save of it what they could, one handful of hair after the other drifted to the ground until there was none left.

When it was done, Crowe let Tredd's wrists go and Nyx pushed him roughly to the ground again. He spat on the strands of hair scattered on the ground, and hissed one word.

“Ntari.”

_Shame._

Cursing, Tredd picked himself up and was intercepted by the Lord Shield when he tried to step away. “You are under arrest,” the man said blandly. Tredd sneered.

Wordlessly, Luche knelt down in front of Nyx, and he, too, was shaved and pushed to the ground. Again Nyx spat on scattered hair, this time a golden blond.

“Ntari,” he growled.

_Shame._

With a single wink of his hand, King Regis called two members of the Crownsguard, who shackled the two disgraced men at once.

“I am a patient man, Sir Ulric, but even that has its limits,” he said, warning clear in his voice.

“They are disgraced. Shamed. Their action reflected badly upon us, upon all Galahkari, and violated our laws. I shaved their heads, therefore the decision over life or death is mine to make.”

The challenge was clear. The King frowned.

“We did nothing of the sort!” Tredd protested.

“One more word, Tredd of Clan Furia, and you will be No One,” Nyx growled. “The laws governing guest right are clear.”

“Nyx Ulric,” Luche spoke up and waited until blue eyes focussed on him, before he continued. “We were never granted guest right. There are no rules to break, because they were never acknowledged.”

“Guest right goes both ways, Luche of Clan Lazarus, and you know that. When we came here, we accepted the guest right as valid. You were there when it was decided, as were you, Tredd of Clan Furia. What? You thought that was just a technicality? Did Drautos make you believe that? Your lives are mine. One step out of line, and you will suffer the consequences.”

* * *

Tension was thick as they all piled into the cars of the Crownsguard. A fire fighter had finally found the courage to walk up to the King and ask him to vacate the premises due to safety concerns. King Regis had agreed willingly and ordered Nyx, Crowe and Libertus to come back with him, the Lord Shield and Cor to the Citadel.

Nyx tried to push the seething rage bubbling in his veins down, with only moderate success. How could Tredd and Luche been so stupid? And Captain Drautos? The latter was something he did not want to think about right now, otherwise he would really kill someone. To even entertain the possibility that the Captain could have... no.

The drive went by blessedly fast. Only when they were all behind closed doors, did the King speak again.

“Sir Ulric, I hope you realize that this shines no good light on your people, especially with the newly opened case, as you have undoubtedly heard.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The King gave him a hard look, then he nodded. “Good. Now tell me what happened from your point of view. Leave nothing out.”

So Nyx recounted what had happened after the broadcast had ended in clipped sentences carefully devoid of any inflection. He could see his friends' worried glances directed at him out of the corner of his eyes, but he ignored them. He would not, could not rage right now. Once he had ended, the King gave a quiet hum.

The man looked like he had aged ten years the moment the Captain's name had come up, but he had not interrupted.

“Clarus,” he said at last, “find out where the Captain is now and what he is doing. Keep him in the Citadel, if possible, but make sure he does not suspect anything.”

“Of course, Majesty. Take care,” the large man said, bowed and walked out of the room.

“I will do what I can, however be aware that not everyone will see this the way I do. Hold yourselves ready for questioning at the Crownsguard offices.”

With those words King Regis gave Cor a long look and a nod. Then he left the room. The tension in the air shifted, yet Nyx could not say to what. Cor looked at them, frown inscrutable and stance rigid. Nyx wanted to say something, anything to make this better, but he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

“Sir Ostium, Sir Altius, report to the Crownsguard offices. Ulric, with me.”

Nyx winced. Something cold crawled up his spine, made his shoulders hike up and his breath hitch. Two warm hands touched his back, one large, the other long and slender. Libertus and Crowe looked at him, both worried. Their touch was reassuring, and Nyx drew all the strength from it he could. What would happen, would happen, and Nyx Ulric would bear it with his head held high. He gave them a tired smile and nodded. Both seemed sceptical, but were willing to follow his lead for now. Soon after, they parted ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs like a maniac*  
The plot thickens!  
You guys have no idea how close I was to kill off Tredd. But then Nyx' morals had to open their mouth, so no character death (for now). I'm pretty sure my thinking out loud about it on Tumblr scared quite a few people, though. Sorry, not sorry XD  
I'm really proud of this one, especially the middle part. Hope you yall had fun reading.
> 
> Untill next chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor and Nyx have a fight, talk and fight again.
> 
> Warnings:  
blood, violence and loss of limb

Cor wasn't angry.

It had been a clusterfuck from the start until now. The day had been long, and he had a feeling it would be longer still until all was said and done. He should have trusted the restlessness he had felt this morning, should have done _something_ to prevent all this from happening. But he hadn't.

So no, Cor wasn't angry.

He was downright furious.

Growling under his breath, he strode through the corridors of the Citadel, Nyx hot on his heels. And here was the other issue, wasn't it? Nyx bloody Ulric. His fiancée.

Just seeing the younger man crouching on top of Glaive Furia, eyes brimming of barely contained bloodlust, teeth bared in a furious snarl, muscles tense and ready to strike at a moment's notice. There had been something animalistic about his whole bearing, something that reminded Cor of feral coeurls. For the first second it had been nothing but a show of absolute strength and beauty. Then reality had reasserted itself.

Kingsglaives – Galahkari – had burnt Lord Sagitta's villa down. Luckily no members of his family had been home and none of the servants had been killed. That would have been the final strike to break a behemoth's horns.

But despite no lives having been lost, Lord Sagitta would be out for revenge now. Cor knew that tiny victory they had won at court was null and void now. After all, if the foreign barbarians didn't shy away from wanton arson, what else would they do to sate their thirst for violence? He could already see the headlines. Just thinking about it made him want to kill something, made his strides faster and longer.

Before he could even think to say anything to Nyx, they reached one of the training rooms in the bowels of the Citadel, normally only used by the royal family and their closest allies. Without hesitation he opened the door and strode inside.

“Co- Marshal.”

He very carefully did not flinch at Nyx stumbled over how to address him. Dear Astrals, this man now standing in the doorway should never look so unsure of himself, so insecure of his own position by Cor's side. And nothing about this situation was the younger man's fault. Nothing. He had done his best, but Cor had no idea how to go about communicating this, too caught up in his own head, with his own blame.

Decidedly shoving this train of thought to the very back of his mind, Cor reached for the training weapons hanging on the wall. They were all simple things with blunted edges, though they were still capable of causing bruises and breaking bones when swung with enough force. Cor chose a standard katana and pulled down a pair of kukri next. He held them out to Nyx.

“Fight me.”

Nyx' eyes widened in surprise. His mouth opened, to comment or protest Cor didn't know and didn't care.

“Neither of us can think straight right now. Fight me,” he said just a smidge softer.

For a long second Nyx just stood there, before realization flickered in his gaze and something like glee curled at the corner of his mouth. Without hesitation the younger man strode all the way into the room, closing the door behind him. He took the weapons, weighting them in his hands, testing their balance and weight with a few practice swings.

Not another word was spoken between them as they took position across from each other. For a moment both stood absolutely still, tension prowling between them like a caged animal as they seized each other up.

It was Nyx who made the first move with a picture perfect lunge to close the distance between them. Cor pivoted out of the way and tried to hit his opponent in the side the with the pommel of his sword, but Nyx used his own momentum to dodge.

Their eyes met as they slowly circled around each other, muscles deceptively loose.

This time it was Cor who chose to attack, a tightly controlled hurricane of violence. It nearly earned him the blunted edge of one of Nyx' kukri in his thigh, when the younger man, against his expectations, did not use the fighting style the Kingsglaive was trained in, but something wholly different.

Cor couldn't help the sharp grin blooming on his face as he tried to get some distance between him and Nyx. This was going to be more fun than he had expected.

Nyx' new – or maybe old – style seemed to involve a lot of agility and dexterity. And spins. It made Cor feel like he was fighting a coeurl, and maybe that was where this fighting style came from. Maybe it was time to change tactics as well. He moved in another pivot and used the momentum to attack. Like he had assumed, Nyx didn't dodge away, but tried to get closer and under his guard.

Lightning fast, Cor kicked out, hitting his opponent in the back of his knee. With a surprised grunt Nyx went down, but immediately rolled out of Cor's range of attack. Nyx crouched low. It would have been a good position to warp, but to Cor's surprise he didn't.

Instead he tried to position himself close to Cor's right-hand side, but the older man followed the movement. The _clang_ of metal hitting metal rang through the room. Once, twice, thrice, as Nyx struck lightening quick. With a grunt Nyx disengaged and tried again, this time coming in high.

Cor saw it coming, ducked and grabbed one of Nyx' wrists. The younger man dodged the blade swiping at his ribs by using Cor as his anchor point to swing his own body around. It caused Cor to become unbalanced. Instead of trying to regain his footing, he let himself fall, taking Nyx with him.

They landed in a pile of limps and weapons, hissing out curses between clenched teeth. Cor let go of his katana and tried to grapple Nyx, who now let go of his own weapons. Both men rolled over the ground in a bid to get the upper hand, neither quite succeeding.

In the end, maybe not so surprisingly, it was Nyx who managed to outmanoeuvre him. Hand to hand combat had never been Cor's strongest suit. They came to a stop, Nyx crouching over him, Cor's arms pinned and their faces centimetres from each other.

Blueish grey eyes were caught in bright blue, their harsh breaths mingling. Nyx blinked, surprise shining in his eyes as he slowly released his hold after Cor's rumbled “I yield”. Neither man made a move to stand up.

Cor felt something burn in his gut and he found he could tear his gaze away from the face hovering above his own. Astrals, he wanted to kiss this man. The urge came so suddenly and forcefully that he very nearly did it, but an ever shrinking part of him still shied away from such an action, so he traced Nyx' face with his eyes instead. The sweat beading down his forehead and temple, the small tattoo beneath his left eye, the form of his cheekbones, the set of is jaw.

“Cor?” Nyx asked, voice barely more than a quiet breath.

Without a word, he slowly raised his arms and pulled Nyx down, until the man's face was pressed against Cor's neck. He could feel Nyx' shuddering exhale as he relaxed against him. Hesitantly, calloused fingers came up and grabbed the fabric of his formal uniform, holding on tight. Cor didn't mind.

For a moment they just lay there, muscles loose from the fight and basking in the warmth of the other. The problems of today hadn't been solved and Cor was still angry, but this- this was good. He settled a hand against the nape of Nyx' neck and carded his fingers through downy hair located there. Nyx' breath hitched.

A part of Cor started to flounder. Was he supposed to say something? Should he? And if yes, what should he say? He had never been in such a situation. Normally he left the comforting people thing to Regis, but that was out of the question. He swallowed.

“You did a good job.”

Cor winced. That hadn't been what he wanted to say. It sounded like he complimented a pet on learning a new trick or something. He felt Nyx release a shuddering breath against his throat.

“If I had done a good job, this wouldn't have happened,” Nyx murmured, voice rough.

“You did the best you could with what you were given.”

“Hmm,” made Nyx, unconvinced. “How are you holding up?”

Cor tilted his head to give Nyx' dark hair an incredulous look. Here he was, trying to shove his own anger aside with helping Nyx, and he was asking how Cor was doing? While clearly being upset? This man.

He opened his mouth, stopped short and frowned to really consider the question. How was he doing really?

He was... tired, he decided. Tired in mind and body. Tired of being angry, of this war, of the prejudice, of this bloody day. But before he could voice any of this, Nyx continued talking.

“The Galahkari had agreed to keep their feet still until tomorrow. Most know what kind of backlash would come, if we did something violent, so we tried our best to avoid that. But then bloody Furia had to let himself be talked into doing something really stupid and now all that work was for nothing. That makes me so angry.”

Silence hung between them for a moment as Cor considered this. “What you did by the house...?”

Nyx shifted to look at Cor. There was a furious sheen in his eyes and a stubborn set to his jaw.

“That's how we deal with the worst crimes. Amongst which we count the violation of guest right. Guest right is sacred, especially in a place where most things want to kill you.”

In that moment Cor couldn't tell if Nyx was referring to Galahd or to Insomnia and that revelation bothered him more than he wanted to admit. At least on paper Galahd was part of the Kingdom of Lucis, and as such its citizens should be treated with all the rights that entailed. Not that pointing that out would do any good in this situation. The sad reality was that since the formation of the New Wall, Insomnia had slowly grown more and more isolated. And with the protection the Wall brought, had also come a sense of entitlement. _We are worth protecting and for that we are better than you._ This attitude had been exacerbated when Mors had pulled back the Wall.

“Shearing off their hair?”

What a strange way to punish someone for what was considered one of the worst crimes amongst a culture.

“Like I said earlier to the King, with shearing off their hair, I claimed their lives as mine. I can now kill them any time and won't be prosecuted for it.”

“So it's the first step towards a death sentence.”

“It can be.”

“But that's not all,” Cor prompted after a short silence in which he stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore how uncomfortable lying on the hard stone floor was slowly becoming.

“Yes. Hair is... important. It's a way to communicate. Things may have relaxed over the last few decades, but being completely bald is considered a great stigma and shame. You lose an integral part of communication and expressing yourself.”

That reminded Cor about the Tenebrani and their masks, if he thought about it, however he wasn't sure how well it would go, if he were to verbalize that thought.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

“I... I don't know. Really. Convincing the Clans to not do anything drastic will be close to impossible, and... no.”

Not for the first time did Cor wonder just what position Nyx had amongst his people, to have this kind of influence. Did the Galahkari have their own system of nobility? Nyx had mentioned Clans more than once. Were they like noble houses? A mix of shame and dissatisfaction made him frown, as he once again realized just how little they knew about the island nation and its people.

Cor was about to ask, when his phone rang.

“Well, seems like duty calls,” Nyx said with a sardonic tilt to his mouth.

He stood up and held out his hand for Cor to take. For a second Cor stared. It had been so long since someone had extended a hand to help him up after he lost a spar. He took it. As soon as he stood Nyx let go and Cor missed his warmth.

The caller ID flashed as he accepted the call.

“Monica,” he said sharper than he had intended to.

“Marshal,” she greeted, voice tight, and at once Cor tensed up again.

Nyx gave him a worried look.

“Report.”

“Glaives Lazarus and Furia were delivered in for questioning like planned. Dustin was called in to conduct the interrogation. Lazarus is proving to be more cooperative than his accomplice. It's worse then we thought, Marshal. The Captain – Drautos, he-”

A sudden burst of violent energy rushed through the Citadel, rattling Cor's teeth and making his muscles lock up. Beside him Nyx yelped and curled in on himself like he had been punched in the gut, colour draining from his face. What the-?

On the other end of the phone he could hear clattering and Monica give a startled cry. Barely two seconds later she started shouting orders.

“Where did that come from?” Cor barked, checking to make sure Nyx was alright before storming out of the training room, his fiancée right beside him.

A string of muffled voices was all he could hear for a few moments until Monica answered. “West Tower.”

Cor felt something within him go cold. “That is where Drautos was last seen.”

Nyx shot him a sharp look and let out a string of curses Cor couldn't understand.

“We cannot reach the Lord Shield,” Monica continued.

“Give order to evacuate the West Tower. Send as many Crownsguard as needed to do this and have the Palace Guard secure all exits and entrances. I'll be there shortly.”

“Yes, Marshal!”

With that Cor hung up and picked up the pace. The ice cold feeling of rage settled deeper into his gut. From what he had heard Nyx and his comrades say at the site of Sagitta's burning house, he had a nagging suspicion as to what might have happened. Next to him Nyx was deathly quiet, his face set into an unreadable mask that disturbed Cor more than he wanted to admit.

They both made a short stop at Cor's office where he pressed a kukri and a stiletto knife into Nyx' hands.

“I trust you know how to handle this?” he asked as he handed Nyx the latter.

His answer was a shallow nod, lips pressed into a firm line.

“Good,” he said and marched out of the room.

A second and third shock wave hit them in short succession on their way. The closer they got, the more they could feel the tremors running through the building. Someone was fighting, and the fighting was travelling towards them. They ran the last leg of the way, avoiding the evacuation route. Neither of them stopped when they arrived at the West Tower and the temporary base of operations where Monica had everything well in hand.

Another shock wave hit, and this time the walls around them shook, causing a picture frame to fall to the ground amidst the shards of a shattered vase. Both Cor and Nyx crouched until the worst of the tremors subsided and continued to run down the corridor towards the stairs.

Two storeys further up, Cor could feel the crackling of magic against his skin and hear the sound of metal clashing against metal. People screamed. A strange whirring sound was their only warning before the hulking form of General Glauca flew through a door, splintering the wood and crashing against the opposite wall. Cracks formed in the stone upon impact like a spider's web.

For a long second Cor felt everything go still. Nothing moved and the only thing he could hear was the rapid beating of his heart. Then the unmistakeable sound of warping shattered the air and Nyx was upon Glauca, trying to ram the stiletto into the huge man's neck.

The Imperial General simply grabbed the Glaive by the wrist and tossed him down the hallway like he was a particularly bothersome fly and nothing more.

Cor snarled. His katana would not be effective in the enclosed space, so he called a wakazashi onto his hand with a firm but gentle tug at the magic he had been gifted with. Glauca's helmet turned towards him. For the fraction of a moment they stared at each other, then Cor moved.

The Marshal ducked beneath the swing of an armoured fist, sliding on his knees, and slashed his blade along the back of the General's knee. A growl, more furious than pained, reverberated through the air and Cor dove out of the way of a backhanded swing.

Nyx jumped over him, feet braced against the wall above Cor's head for less than a second, before he propelled himself towards the enemy's unguarded side like a large cat on the hunt. The kukri scraped against the cuirass. Sparks flew as Nyx sent a lightning spell through the weapon. Glauca stumbled back half a step, pivoted out of the way of Nyx' next attack and dove back into the room he had crashed out of.

Clarus stood there, sword and shield at the ready, clearly banged up and bleeding from a head wound. Glauca's sword was stuck in the wall next to the window right behind Clarus, who was preparing himself for another attack, ice cracking along the edge of his sword. Without thinking Cor followed the Imperial General, intend on attacking him from behind while his attention was on Clarus, but it was not to be.

Glauca stretched out his right hand and the sword moved. There was no warning Cor could have uttered, it was happening too fast. One moment the massive sword was halfway buried in the wall, the next it flew straight at Glauca, Clarus in its direct path.

There was a horrifying scream full of agony, the whirring of magitek armour and the shattering of glass as the window burst. The next moment Glauca was gone and Cor threw himself towards Clarus, who lay on the ground, choking on another scream. Cor had barely any time to feel the relief at the knowledge that his friend was still alive. Then he saw the damage and everything within him went ice cold.

Blood rapidly saturated the Shield's robes and pooled on the ground. Not too far from him lay his severed arm, cut off just above the elbow. Cor knelt down on the ground, not heeding the blood seeping into his trousers. With grim determination he pulled off his belt and wound it around the bleeding stump. Clarus' eyes were glassy and unfocussed as he tried to speak but didn't manage more than a choked off moan.

“Don't,” Cor barked. “Just keep breathing.”

As if from far away he could hear Nyx call for the medics, but he couldn't concentrate on the words spoken. The only thing he could focus on was keeping his friend from bleeding out, reminding Clarus to keep breathing.

For Gladio.

For Iris.

For Regis.

Cor didn't know for how long he knelt there, talking, until he was gently pulled away by a woman in the bright red jacket of a first response medic. He nearly stabbed her anyway. She said something, but he just stared at her, mind blank.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the corner of the room, eyes still trained to where the medics were clustering around Clarus, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and Nyx pressed against his side. He watched as Clarus was heaved onto a stretcher and wheeled out of the room as the minutes stretched into eternity. He wanted to follow, but what remained of his more rational side reminded him that he would only get in the way, so he stayed where he was until Nyx wound an arm around his shoulder and gently guided him into standing up.

“I'm not fragile,” he heard himself say.

“No,” Nyx agreed. “But you just saw your brother lose an arm in a fight against Dr- Glauca. In the safety of your home no less.”

Cor didn't manage more than a quiet hum. Nyx let go of his shoulders and, before he could miss the warmth, gently took his hand, linking their fingers together.

“Come,” he said, voice soft and full of understanding. “Let's go to the medical wing and see if someone can tell us how the Lord Shield is doing.”

That... actually sounded like a good plan. So he let himself be led out of the room, leaving the shattered window, the destruction and the puddle of blood behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes head in*  
Look what I finally managed to write guys. What a ride, right? *evil laughter*  
Sorry it took so long, but stuff was happening. So have this as a Happy New Year celebration! Hurray! (I'm prepared to get screamed at.)  
Note: The throwaway line about the masks of the Tenebrani (Tenebraean, but that word doesn't look good imo, so I made up my own XD) is a reference to my and LightsaberWieldingDalek's fic Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori. Which focuses heavily on the culture of Tenebrae with Ravus and Luna as the main characters.   
Again, Happy New Year!  
Until the next chapter :D

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, another one!
> 
> I was listening an audio drama (The Magnus Archives; it's horror ans suspense and very good) and one episode had to do with hunting. That gave me the base idea that Galahdians state their intend to marry someone by giving them a hunting trophy. From bones to teeth to fur and feathers everything is allowed.   
Hunting down a coeurl would be a very heavy crime in Galahd. Cor manages to find the one exeption in which it is possible to present somebody with a trophy made from a coeurl's parts. And he gives it to the one clan where declining something like this is basically considered inviting bad fortune.   
Also, like always: If something in a chapter requires a specific warning, I'll say it at the beginning of the chapter so it can be avoided.   
I don't write smut, so you won't find that here. This will a story about different cultures connecting and at the heart of that is the relationship between Nyx and Cor.
> 
> Until next chapter!


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